Chance Encounter II: Pirate Kingdom of Troy
by Telcontar Rulz
Summary: AU. More misadventures for Balian the blacksmith and his elven friend as they meet up with some rather strange pirates and then get transported to the legendary city of Troy just in time for a war... KoHLotRPotCTroy crossover.
1. Many Meetings

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Note: **This is a sequel to Chance Encounter and if you haven't read that, you might not understand some bits. It is advisable to read that first.

**Disclaimer:** I wish I owned Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, etc, but I don't. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 1: Many Meetings**

Will Turner, captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, gazed out across the vast expanse of ocean as the sun rose in the east. On the other side, the sun would be setting and his dear Elizabeth would be getting ready for the evening. He wondered how she was. How long had it been? Six years, three months and thirteen days. He missed her so much. She owned his heart in every sense. It was strange how Davy Jones had lost his humanity when he cut out his heart and yet, Will Turner had not. He had asked Calypso about it once but the Sea Goddess had failed to give him a coherent answer. Will smiled wistfully. There were so many questions in the world and not nearly enough answers. His smile turned into a frown as he spotted two figures in the ocean. They did not look like the usual souls of those who had died at sea.

Will pulled out his telescope and put it to his eye to take a better look. There were indeed two people in the water, waving their arms to attract his attention. They seemed to be drowning. That was odd. The dead usually floated serenely in the water or in boats, waiting to be taken to the other side. They would certainly not be drowning.

"Mr. Turner!" he shouted to his father and First Mate. "Men overboard on the starboard side!"

"I'm onto it, Cap'n!" said Bootstrap Bill, steering the ship towards the two people. A line was thrown to them and they were hauled onto the deck, coughing up seawater. The two contrasted each other perfectly with their colourings. One was as dark as a Spaniard and the other looked as if he had been made from sunlight.

"This is my third shipwreck," said the dark man. He had a foreign accent.

"Maybe you should stay on dry land when you get there," said the one with golden hair.

The darker one of the two looked up at the curious crew. He was about to thank them but his voice died in his throat when he took in Will's face. Will was astounded, for this man whom he had taken from the sea had exactly the same face as he did, save for a long red scar down the side of his face.

"Balian?" said the golden-haired man. "You didn't tell me you had a twin brother."

The one called Balian didn't respond. He stood and stepped towards Will. Seawater dripped from his hair and clothes and ran down his face. "I thank you all for saving our lives," he said "but please, tell us where we are, and who you are."

"You're...you're at World's End," said Will, not taking his eyes off Balian. "I'm Captain Will Turner of the _Flying Dutchman_. This is my crew. We ferry the souls of those who died at sea to the other side." He looked Balian up and down. "You don't seem dead to me."

"I'm not," said Balian. "At least, if I am, I don't remember dying."

"Is your heart still beating?" asked Will.

Balian felt for his pulse. "Yes," he said. "It is."

"This is strange," said Will.

Balian's companion also had the same face as Will and Balian and he seemed a lot more wary about Will and his crew. He introduced himself as Legolas, and Will gleaned the remaining information from Balian. Legolas was an elf, the man told him. Will had always thought of elves as small, pixie-like creatures but apparently, he had thought wrong. Balian was French, which explained the strange accent. What it didn't explain was how they could understand each other when Balian told him that he did not know a word of English.

"I think there are supernatural forces at work here," said Will. "It certainly wouldn't be the first time. Some higher being wants us to understand each other. Our meeting, therefore, was not a coincidence."

"Is there anyone who might know why we're here?" said Legolas.

"Perhaps," said Will.

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow drained the last drop of rum and peered wistfully into the bottle. "Why is the rum always gone?" he muttered. No one answered him. He didn't expect an answer. After all, he was sitting in a leaky dinghy floating in the middle of nowhere. He put his empty bottle down and took out his scrap of chart and his compass. The chart didn't make any sense at all, and the compass' needle kept pointing in different directions, which meant that something was wrong, usually. What he needed was someone who knew every inch of the sea...

_Calypso_. That name suddenly popped into his mind. Calypso was the Goddess of the Seas. She would know. Jack Sparrow licked his finger and held it up to see which way the wind was blowing, then he looked at his compass again. The needle had stopped moving.

* * *

Barbossa was angry. No, to be exact, he was furious. Knowing that he had been thwarted by one of Jack Sparrow's idiotic ideas was not a good feeling. Recently, he had heard news of that rum-soaked pirate from the island of Tortuga and he was now tracking him through the Caribbean. He peered through his telescope. There. A lone dinghy was sailing doggedly across the azure water. Barbossa smiled. This was the day they would all remember as the day that they caught Captain Jack Sparrow.

* * *

Calypso's old abode looked abandoned, but Jack knew better. This was the Sea Goddess' temple and the best place to speak with her. He settled himself in a spot that was relatively uncluttered and crossed his legs in a meditative position. Creatures of every denomination had established themselves in this tiny wooden shack. The pirate flicked away an over-inquisitive flying insect that had landed on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and concentrated his thoughts...

* * *

Balian spluttered and coughed up seawater. Everything had happened so quickly that he had not had the time to register what had happened. One moment, the sun was setting and then there was an eerie green flash of light. The next thing he saw was the rising sun. Legolas was glaring at the captain for not having given them ample warning. The elf was soaking wet like the rest of them but he was decidedly tidy. He looked as if he had been bathing with his clothes on instead of being dunked in the ocean. Balian brushed his wet hair out of his face and peered up at Will.

"We're back in the land of the living," said the captain.

"Oh," said Balian. He didn't know what to say.

"You said we're going to find answers," said Legolas who was still scowling. Balian wondered if his friend's sea-longing was affecting him again. The elf wasn't usually this short-tempered.

"We need to go upriver to find them," said Will "and I cannot step onto land until my ten years are over. I'll take you to the island. Will you be able to find the way by yourselves if I give you directions?"

"We can try," said Balian. "We'll come back to find you if we can't."

"Just don't maroon us on the island," said Legolas darkly. He didn't trust these people. They felt wrong, especially the captain. His sea-longing was stronger than ever. He decided not to tell Balian for fear of worrying the young man.

"I give you my word as the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ that I won't maroon you," said Will, wondering what he had done to win the elf's mistrust.

* * *

Life was going on as usual in the city of Troy. Vendors displayed their wares on the streets. Children ran about underfoot, laughing in their play. Inside the palace, King Priam was seated on his throne, reading a letter from King Menelaus of Sparta. He handed the document to a tall, broad-shouldered young man with well-formed features and a neatly trimmed beard. "What do you make of this, Hector?" said the old King after his son had read the letter.

"I think we should accept his offer, Father," said Hector, heir to the Trojan throne and light of the Dardan lands. "Menelaus is an honourable man. I believe he is sincere in his desire for peace between Sparta and Troy. If you will allow me, I shall go to Sparta to negotiate with Menelaus."

Calchas, High Priest of Troy, listened intently to the conversation between the King and his son. Hector was so unlike Priam, who had absolute faith in the gods and their priests. Hector tended to question every omen and he viewed Calchas with suspicion. The High Priest knew that his days of power were drawing to an end if he did not act soon. Priam was old. He could not have many more days left on earth. Hector would replace him as King and Calchas' influence would diminish as the new King would not trust him enough. And now, here was the perfect chance to get rid of Hector once and for all and replace him with his hapless younger brother, Paris.

The High Priest planned to send a message to Agamemnon, High King of Mycenae and Menelaus' older brother, asking him to order Menelaus to kill Hector in exchange for control over Troy. Or maybe they could tamper with the ship. Poseidon was unpredictable. Who knew when He would decide to curse travellers?

"What do you think of this?" Priam asked Calchas.

"I think the prince should be allowed to go to Sparta, for the sake of our two nations," replied Calchas. "The gods will it."

"Then you shall go to Sparta, my son," said Priam, turning back to Hector. "You shall go and forge peace between our two nations. Paris shall go with you. He has been asking me to give him a commission. I have been reluctant to do so but since he will be under your guidance, I will not worry. This will be his opportunity to prove that he is worthy of tasks of greater importance."

Hector hesitated. Paris? He loved his brother but he was not oblivious to the younger man's flaws. Being a younger son who had been overindulged since birth, Paris was an irresponsible young man who left a trail of broken-hearted girls and women behind him wherever he went. But then, maybe all Paris needed was a chance to be responsible.

"I shall inform Paris of your intentions," said Hector, bowing his head in deference to his father.

* * *

Balian eyed the dense sunless forest around him warily, expecting the trees to begin moving any moment. Ever since the battle of Helms Deep, the blacksmith had treated forests with suspicion and had given them a wide berth, much to his elven friend's amusement.

"Relax, my friend," said Legolas as he manned the oars of their longboat. "The trees are not going to eat you."

"They killed the orcs," said the man. "Are we there yet?"

"We should be almost there if the instructions that your friend Will Turner gave us were correct," said Legolas.

"I don't know why you don't like him," said Balian. "He seems decent enough."

"He's a pirate, and I can feel there's something wrong with him," said Legolas. "The shack's just ahead and it seems we're not the only ones who have come here to find this Calypso." There was a little sailboat floating just outside the shack. Compared to the _Flying Dutchman_, it looked like a toy. The two companions tied their boat to a tree and stepped on shore.

It was dark inside the shack. Only the weakest rays of sunlight came in through the grimy windows to penetrate the gloom. Balian moved as carefully as he could, trying not to disturb the piles of clutter. There was a click and he felt something cold and hard against the back of his head.

Jack heard something, but it was not Calypso. He was not alone in the shack. There were two other people. It was too dark to make out their faces. He crept up behind one of them and put his pistol to the back of the man's head. His hand was on the butt of his other pistol, ready to point it at the stranger's companion who had gone out of sight. "Put your hands in the air," he growled.

"Are you Calypso?" said the stranger. He made no move to do as he had been told.

"I don't think it matters what I am and what I am not, mate," said Jack. "I got me gun trained on your head and if you don't do as you're told I'll blow your brains out, savvy?"

"What's a gun?" said the stranger. Jack was speechless. Who on earth did not know what a gun was? Before he could say anything, he felt the cold caress of a blade on his throat.

"Release him," said the other stranger. Jack had to admit, he was good. There weren't many people who could sneak up on Captain Jack Sparrow and put a blade to his neck without him knowing until it was too late.

"You know, son, I can probably blow his brains out quicker than you can cut my throat," said Jack.

"Do you want to test that theory?" said the second stranger.

"Do I get a say in this?" asked the first stranger. He turned his head to glance backwards. "I really don't want to be part of this little experiment. And what is a gun?"

"Will Turner?" said Jack as he caught a glimpse of the man's face. "What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be on the _Dutchman_."

"I'm not Will," said the man who looked like Will "but he sent us here to find answers."

Jack got a good idea. Maybe he couldn't find Calypso, but Will was the next best thing. He was the captain of the _Flying Dutchman _and master of the seas, albeit the seas on the other side. He would probably know where the Fountain of Youth was. "I have the answers," he told them "and if you'll be so kind as to take me to the good captain, I shall divulge them when I see him." He removed the pistol from the first stranger's head and he felt the blade being taken away from his neck.

"What's your name?" he asked the first stranger who seemed the friendlier of the two.

"Balian," he replied.

"That's a stranger name," commented Jack.

"What sort of name is Calypso?" asked the other stranger.

"I have no idea," said the pirate. "Gentlemen, shall we?" He indicated the longboat.

* * *

Barbossa spotted Jack, but the twice-cursed rum-soaked pirate was not alone. He was in a longboat with two other men, one of which looked suspiciously like William Turner the Second. What was the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ doing with Jack Sparrow? Wasn't he supposed to be at World's End ferrying the souls of the dead? He decided to trail the longboat and was unpleasantly surprised when it stopped beside a very familiar looking ship. So the _Dutchman_ was on this side again. Had Turner decided to become the terror of the seas as Jones had been? It hadn't even been ten years yet and the last time he had seen Elizabeth Swann-Turner —which had been only a few months ago— she had still been very faithful to her husband.

The crew had also spotted the _Dutchman_ and they were very nervous. "What should we do, Cap'n?" said Pintel.

"We wait," said Barbossa.

The three men in the longboat climbed onboard the ship, only to be greeted by yet another William Turner. This was getting very strange and Barbossa was itching to find out just who was the real captain of the _Flying Dutchman_.

* * *

"Will," said Balian. "We've brought Calypso. He said he would give us answers if he saw you."

Will was only half listening. Behind him, Bootstrap snorted with laughter. The younger Turner's attention was focused on the very familiar newcomer, who grinned.

"My dear William," said Jack. "How lovely to see you, mate."

"What are you doing here?" asked Will.

"Your friends brought me here," replied Jack.

"You tricked them."

"It's their fault they were gullible enough to be tricked."

"I take it this is _not_ Calypso," said Legolas.

"No," said Will. "Calypso is decidedly female. This is Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain_," added Jack. "It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

"You said you would give us answers," said Balian, stepping forward to look Jack in the eye.

"Sorry, mate," said Jack with a shrug. "I lied."

"Pirates," muttered Legolas.

"What do you want, Jack?" said Will. "And no, I am not joining in on one of your harebrained schemes again."

"Well, William, let me tell you something. Last I remembered, you were the one who...oh bugger." Jack's eyes were focused beyond Will. He was gazing with dismay at something on the horizon. Will turned to see what he was staring at.

The _Black Pearl_ in all its splendour was sailing towards them. "Jack," said Will. "Did you and Barbossa have another disagreement?"

"Captain Turner!" called Barbossa as soon as they were within speaking distance. "I believe you have a certain pirate on board!"

"We're all pirates here, Barbossa!" replied Will. "Which one do you want?"

"You know exactly which one!" said Barbossa. He had Sao Feng's charts in his hand and angrily, he unfurled them. In the centre was a circular hole where the map had been.

"You marooned me on Tortuga," said Jack from behind Will "so we're fair and square."

Balian gaped at the pirates. How could they be so deceitful? In all his life he had never met someone who was as accomplished in the skill of lying as Jack Sparrow and he wondered how men could have so little honour.

Before Barbossa could retort, lightning flashed across the sky, followed by roaring thunder. A jagged bolt of lightning snaked down from the gathered storm clouds and struck the water between the two ships. A whirlpool formed where the lightning had struck and it drew the two vessels in towards the centre.

'Not again,' thought the blacksmith. 'I've only just arrived.'

* * *

Here's the first chapter. The story will get more interesting once Balian and his friends meet Hector and Paris. 


	2. Many Questions

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Will, Legolas, Jack, Paris, Hector etc. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them.

_Thanks to __**Blackeri **__for making a trailer for this. You can view it here at __**www (dot) youtube (dot) com (forward slash) watch?vdv4MxFI0NuU **__(without the spaces). Hannon le, mellon-nin._

**Chapter 2: Many Questions**

As the sun rose over Troy, it found men preparing a seaworthy vessel for the two princes' imminent voyage to Sparta. Hector was overseeing the preparations and he wondered where Paris was. They were setting out as soon as the sun touched the top of Mount Ida and yet there was no sign of the younger prince.

"Hector!" The Crown Prince turned to see his sister Cassandra running towards him. Her wild curls were in disarray, as usual. The morning light accented the shadows under her eyes and the hollowness of her cheeks. "Don't go to Sparta, please don't," begged Cassandra. "This voyage will bring back nothing but disaster for Troy. I know it! I have seen it!"

Hector sighed. He was in no mood for another one of Cassandra's depressing 'prophecies', if they could be called that. He loved his sister dearly but there was no denying that she was mad. She seemed to delight in predicting death and doom. He took her by the shoulders gently and tried to calm her down. "Relax, Cassandra, it's alright," he said. "We're going to Sparta to make peace. There won't be any disasters, trust me."

"No, Hector, you don't understand!" Cassandra was beginning to grow hysterical. Hector did not want his sister to create a scene. "You have to believe what I saw!"

"Of course I believe what you saw," said Hector. He spotted Paris —finally— in the distance. His younger brother had to ability to charm any female creature, even Cassandra. If anyone could calm her down, it was Paris. At the moment, the younger prince was deep in conversation with their cousin Aeneas. Hector tried to beckon to Paris as subtly as possible. Thankfully, Paris saw. He excused himself from Aeneas and ran down to Hector and Cassandra.

"Sister dear," said Paris. "What's wrong? Has Hector upset you again?"

Hector glared at Paris.

"Don't go to Sparta," said Cassandra. "Tell Hector not to go. You can't go to Sparta!"

"It isn't really Hector's decision, Cassandra," said Paris soothingly. "Father made him, but if you're so certain that we shouldn't go to Sparta then I shall try my best to persuade our brother." He winked at Hector, who wondered how Cassandra could still fall for his tricks after numerous times.

'Life would be so much easier if I had Paris' charm,' he thought.

"Do you promise?" said Cassandra, looking Paris in the eye.

"I promise," lied Paris smoothly without so much as blinking. Cassandra relaxed considerably. She was about to say more but a fanfare announced the King's arrival. All of them dropped down onto their knees to greet Priam and his entourage which included Queen Hecuba, Hector's wife Andromache and their infant son Astyanax, and Ganymede, the youngest of Priam and Hecuba's sons.

"Arise," said Priam. His gaze was focused on his two older sons. He smiled at them benevolently. "Hector, Paris, come here to receive an old man's blessing."

Hector approached Priam first, as protocol dictated. The old king kissed his eldest son's forehead and whispered words of blessing into his ear. Priam repeated the procedure with Paris and then it was the rest of the family's turn to bid the two princes farewell. Andromache went up to Hector with Astyanax in her arms. Hector took his tiny son from his wife.

"Are you going to say goodbye to me, little one?" he said, smiling down at his son whose fingers were wrapped around his thumb. "Are you going to say goodbye to Papa?" He tickled the baby's stomach, making him giggle. Andromache smiled as she watched her husband play with their son. She took Astyanax back just as something pounced on Hector.

"Ganymede," chided Hector as he shook his younger brother off. "I'm getting too old for this. If you must annoy someone, annoy Paris."

"Hah! I'd crush him if I tried that with him," said Ganymede. "The maidens of Troy wouldn't be too pleased if I did."

At thirteen years of age, Ganymede was a beautiful boy. Paris was handsome but Ganymede was beautiful, and he knew it. Hector knew that he could charm women better than Paris if he put his mind to it.

"Well, go annoy Aeneas then," said Hector.

"I'd rather not. He swore he'd break my legs if I tried to annoy him. I wish I could go with you, Hector. It sounds like such an adventure. Things are going to be so dull with you and Paris gone. I'll only have Cassandra and Briseis for company. No more scandals, no one to annoy, what am I going to do?"

"Look after your parents, your sisters, Ganymede, and don't forget your nephew, oh and Briseis of course."

"I'm not a family man, not like you." Ganymede gave Hector a hug. "Will you promise to tell me everything when you get back?"

"I promise, little brother."

* * *

Balian hung on grimly to the railings of the ship as it was dragged down into the ocean's depths. The water closed over his head. Salty brine flooded his nostrils and then, the ship stopped moving and he could breathe again. "What on earth is going on?" he heard Will say. "I'm on land...what? How?" 

"I dunno," said Jack Sparrow. "It don't look good though."

Balian scrambled to his feet and brushed his wet hair away from his eyes to see what was going on. The ships were safe. In fact, they were very safe for they were stuck on a high barren island beyond the reach of the tide. There was no other land within sight and t he only creatures they could see were a few lonely seagulls., wailing mournfully as they wheeled in the clear cloudless sky. The hot sun quickly dried them, leaving them caked with salt.

"We're going to die of thirst here if we don't do something," said Legolas. His long golden hair was stiff with salt.

"Do you see more land or other ships or anything, Legolas?" asked Balian.

"Yes," said the elf. "I see the sea."

"As if I don't know that."

"You asked."

"Lower the longboats," said Will. "My crew won't die of thirst and starvation but you will. I found you and it is my responsibility to ensure that you reach safety."

"What about me?' said Jack. "I'm still mortal, you know."

"You can come with us," said Will. The _Black Pearl_'s remaining crew were already lowering the longboats. They could hear Barbossa shouting orders.

"Mr. Turner," said Will. "In my absence you are in charge of this ship and the crew."

"Aye, Cap'n," said Bootstrap. Balian saw the smile that they shared and wondered why it was the son who was the captain and not the father. It seemed rude to ask especially since he did not know either Will or Bootstrap that well. The _Dutchman_'s crew lowered one longboat. Balian, Legolas and Will carried it down to the water while Jack carried the oars and a grimy bottle of dark brown liquid. Every now and then, the pirate swigged from it.

"What is that?" whispered Balian to Will. The captain grimaced.

"That, my friend, is rum, the vilest drink in the world," said Will. "I only have it on board my ship because for some inexplicable reason, my crew are addicted to it. I allow this one addiction because rum is a good substitute for gunpowder when one is desperate."

"What's gunpowder?" said Balian.

"It's powder which explodes when ignited," said Will, thinking that this was one ignorant blacksmith. 'Then again,' he thought 'he's French. I suppose that would explain it.'

"That reminds me; what's a gun? I think Jack tried to threaten me with one."

"Sure did, mate," said Jack. He put down the oars then took out his pistol to show it to Balian and Legolas.

"It doesn't look like much," said Balian, looking down at the curious metal object.

"Neither does the whelp," said Jack, jerking his head in Will's direction. Will pressed his lips together in a grim line. "Do not underestimate it." Balian was not sure whether Jack meant the 'gun' or Will.

"So what does it do?" said Legolas.

"It shoots out hard metal balls," said Will.

"Like a slingshot?" asked Balian. Jack and Will looked at each other. What sort of blacksmith did not understand what a gun was?

"In a manner," said Will, who did not want to explain the inner workings of modern artillery. "Come on, I don't like this place. I'm not supposed to be on land until my ten years are up and they are definitely not up."

The other ship's crew —or rather, what remained of it— had reached the water's edge and were pushing their boats in. The captain called Barbossa was sharing a boat with two contrasting men. One was tall and lanky with a wooden eye while the other was fat and short. A strange furry creature perched on Barbossa's shoulder. Will called it a 'monkey'.

Apparently, Wooden Eye and his companion were having problems. Wooden Eye was complaining that his companion was rowing too fast while the fat pirate was complaining that Wooden Eye was not rowing fast enough. At the moment, their boat was going around in a large circle but a circle nonetheless. Jack watched them with some amusement. "Some things just don't change, do they?" he asked. Will didn't answer. He was busy staring into the distance with a wistful look on his face.

"Oh, Elizabeth," he breathed, not talking to anyone in particular.

'Who's Elizabeth?' thought Balian.

"Ah, Jack Sparrow," said Barbossa as his two crew members finally came to an understanding and were catching up to the other boats. "At last. I've waited for this moment for a long time."

"It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow," said Jack, flashing a grin while trying to hide behind Will.

"Well, captain or not, you're in my grasp now," said Barbossa.

"Not while I'm under the protection of the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, mate," said Jack smugly with a twinkle in his eye. His grin was as wide as ever.

"What ?" said Will, who had not been paying very much attention.

"Hush, William," said Jack. "I promise to tell you about your bonnie lass if you say 'yes'."

"I mean, yes, Barbossa. Jack's right," said Will hurriedly, not really understanding what was going on between Barbossa and Jack. "Now tell me about Elizabeth."

"She's fine," said Jack. Will looked at him dolefully. "Oh, alright. She's in New England now, and did I tell you that you're a father, William?"

"No," whispered Will. "You didn't."

"Well, now I have," said Jack with a flourish.

"I could've told you that," said Barbossa "and more besides. You have a son. William James Turner. He looks just like you and he and his mother should be managing well, financially at least. I share me plunder with them every now and then. Just gave them some gold not three months ago. It should last them a year or two."

Will was speechless. Barbossa was helping to support his wife and child? Who would've thought? Then again, Barbossa always had a soft spot for Elizabeth.

"Not to interrupt," said Legolas "but there is a ship on the horizon. It's sailing towards us."

"What colours?" said Jack.

"Colours?" said Legolas

"Flags," said Will.

"Looks like some sort of animal," said the elf, shading his eyes with a slender hand. "A horse, or maybe a dog."

Barbossa peered through his telescope in the direction that Legolas was pointing at. "It looks like an ancient Greek galley," said the pirate. He turned to Legolas. "You have good eyes, boy."

Legolas raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm probably older than your grandfather so it would be most inappropriate for you to call me 'boy'," said the elf

"He's immortal," said Balian quickly before Barbossa could take offence.

"Is he now?" said Barbossa. Both he and Jack looked very interested. Balian paid no attention to them. Rather, he was busy trying to attract the ship's attention, as many of the other sailors were doing. The blacksmith stripped off his outer shirt and was waving it wildly. He hoped that the people on board the ship could see.

* * *

Paris peered across the azure water. He could hear the oarsmen behind him and the sound of Hector's carving knife as he whittled a wooden toy for Astyanax. Paris wondered if he would ever fall in love as Hector had done with Andromache. The younger prince had bedded many women but none of them had managed to capture his heart. He frowned as he caught sight of something in the distance. A flag out in the middle of the ocean? Someone was waving it. Whoever it was, they seemed desperate. "Hector!" he said. "Someone's out there." 

Hector stopped whittling and went over to look in the direction at which Paris was pointing. "Do you see it?" asked Paris.

"I think there are boats," said Hector. He turned to the oarsmen. "Increase your speed!"

* * *

Balian could see it quite clearly now. It was a very strange ship, unlike any that he had ever seen. There were eyes painted on its prow to make it seem like a living creature. Dark-skinned people manned it. The blacksmith stopped his waving. At the prow of the ship was another young man who looked very much like Legolas, Will and himself.

* * *

Cassandra fought the unease which lurked in the pit of her stomach. She could not eat or sleep and had not been able to ever since Paris and Hector had left for Sparta. They were still not back yet, which could only mean that Hector had no intention of not going to Sparta. She prayed to the gods for guidance but as usual, they gave her none. 

"Cassandra," said a cheerful voice. She glanced around to see her brother Ganymede. He was dressed in civilian clothing.

"Ganymede? Where are you going?" she asked. Her unease increased.

"Just down to the beach. I want to explore some of the caves," said the youngest prince. At the mention of the word 'caves', Cassandra saw a flash of red before her eyes.

Ganymede, don't go down to the caves," she said. "Something's there..."

"Oh no, not another prophecy," groaned Ganymede. He made to leave.

"No, listen to me..." began Cassandra, but her brother was already gone.

* * *

Calchas listened to the messenger's reply from Agamemnon. Menelaus had refused to have Hector murdered, calling it dishonourable and cowardly. He pondered his problem in the gloom of the cave. The sound of the sea echoed. He fancied that Poseidon was speaking to him. Either way, Hector would die; he just preferred to have him die in Sparta so that Menelaus could be held responsible, thus shifting the blame. "If Menelaus won't do it, then we must think of something else..." began the High Priest.

* * *

**A/N: **Love it? Hate it? Have something to tell me? Reviews please. 

**Aeneas — **cousin of Hector and Paris

**Astyanax —** Hector and Andromache's son.

**Cassandra — **younger sister of Hector and Paris. She's a seer but she's been cursed so no one believes her and thinks she's mad.

**Ganymede** — younger brother of Hector and Paris.

**Hecuba — **mother of Hector, Paris, Ganymede, Cassandra.


	3. A Conspiracy

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Paris, Jack, Hector etc. etc. I'm only borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 3: A Conspiracy**

Ganymede heard men's voices echoing in the dark limestone cave and saw the flickering of firelight on the rough uneven walls. That was odd. He thought no one came down here. It was so hard to access. Quietly, like a cat, he sneaked in, taking care not to slip on rocks which were slimy with seaweed and algae or sharp with oyster shells which jutted out like tiny blades. The voices were magnified by the cave's vast emptiness. He recognized Calchas' voice. What was the High Priest doing down here? "...we can send men to Sparta," Calchas was saying. "They must be handpicked. Hector is a fierce warrior. Only the best can overcome him. If all else fails, I have men on the ship who will finish it, but I would prefer it if Hector could die in Sparta. Once he is dead..."

The young prince let slip a gasp. His eyes were wide with fear and his heart sounded like a herd of horses galloping across the plains. The High Priest and his servants stopped speaking.

"Someone's here," said Calchas. "They've overheard us." Ganymede tried to run but strong hands grabbed him and dragged him before Calchas. The High Priest looked down at the boy. "Your highness," he said, sweeping a mocking bow.

"What are you going to do to me?" said Ganymede, breathing rapidly. His voice came out sounding strangled and his heartbeat was unbearably loud in the stillness of the cave.

"I wouldn't dare, your highness," said Calchas in a dramatic manner as if he was a player doing a performance before the King. "But I have been thinking, it would be cruel to send your brother down to Hades all by himself with no companion. He would be so lonely. Perhaps you could go before him and show him the way when he arrives."

Ganymede was speechless with fear. Before he could react, he was thrown onto his back. His scream died in his throat as someone plunged a cold blade into his chest and through his heart. Everything faded and turned black...

Blood poured out from the gaping hole in the boy's chest when the man pulled out his sword and wiped the blade clean on the prince's clothes. Calchas looked on indifferently. A pity. Ganymede was such a beautiful boy, even in death. The High Priest's servants wrapped up the body and weighted the bloody bundle down with stones before offering it into the ocean's watery embrace. It was a necessary sacrifice to ensure that the High Priest's plan succeeded.

* * *

The sun had set, and yet Ganymede still had not returned to the palace. Frantic with worry, Cassandra told Aeneas who immediately set out to find the missing prince. Their efforts proved to be fruitless. Ganymede had disappeared, as if the earth had swallowed him whole. The two of them went to Priam, who summoned the High Priest to ask him what had happened. 

"Ah," said Calchas when he heard of Ganymede's disappearance. "I was in the temple today when I was granted a vision. It seems that Prince Ganymede was walking alone along the beach when Zeus, King of the gods, saw him. Moved by his beauty, He took him up to Mount Olympus to be the divine Cupbearer. The prince, your majesty, has been deified. You should rejoice for him."

Cassandra could feel that something was wrong, but she didn't know what. Something about the High Priest made her want to shudder. When she met his eyes, red flashed before her again. "Ganymede's not on Mount Olympus," she whispered. "He's in Hades." The tears started flowing and she began to scream hysterically, tearing at her face and hair. "Oh my brother! He's in Hades! He's dead!"

Priam, who had been shocked by the surprising revelation of Ganymede's deification was shaken out of his stupor by Cassandra's cries. "Take her away," he said. "She is mad! Her words are poison! My son isn't dead; he's with the gods!" Aeneas quickly dragged Cassandra away before she angered the King further. She struggled against him with every step. He was thankful that she was light and frail, like a baby bird. Her struggles were futile against his strength. That did not stop her from trying though.

"It's alright," he said in his most soothing tone. "Everything's going to be fine. Ganymede's a god now. He's happy. Hush, it's alright..." Her hands beat against him. She was not calming down at all. Where was Paris when he was needed?

* * *

Paris gaped at the men in the boats. Three of them had his face although one was very fair with long golden hair and pointed ears while the other two were dark and bearded, one of them more so than the other. They all wore strange garments which were at the moment stiff with salt from the dried seawater. The man who had been waving the makeshift flag spoke first. "Can you help us?" he said. "We're lost." 

"Where are you heading?" asked Hector.

"Just land; any land, with fresh water and supplies," replied the stranger.

"We're going to Sparta," said Hector. There was something about this man...something special, as if he was blessed by the gods. "You can come with us."

"Many thanks," said the man. He turned to his companions and they all began a rapid discussion which included many loud screeches from a small monkey. The old man wearing a garment on his head with a large feather seemed reluctant to accept Hector's offer.

"I don't think we should accept the offer so easily," said Barbossa. "Who knows what ill intent they're harbourin'?"

"I think their offer is genuine," said Balian. "If they want to kill us they can just leave us here to die of exposure. I suggest that we take the risk and go with them, Captain Barbossa."

"Mebbe 'e's right, cap'n," said Pintel hesitantly, afraid of inducing Barbossa's wrath. "Gettin's shot's better than starvin' or dyin' o' thirst."

"Aye! I second that!" said Jack enthusiastically, pointing a finger at the sky. He shrunk back when Barbossa glared at him. Jack the monkey screeched and Jack the pirate made a face at said monkey.

Hector took in the interaction between the man with the braided beard and the small monkey. They were certainly a strange lot. "Are you sure it's wise to let them join us?" said Paris, eyeing the three men who had his face.

"We can't just leave them out here to die," said Hector. He told the men to lower a rope ladder down the side of the galley. The man who had spoken to them climbed up first, followed by his golden companion. The others came up one after the other. The old man with the monkey was the last. The waves were increasing and he seemed to be having a little trouble balancing. Hector held out a hand to him. The man glanced at it and then accepted his offer to help, although he did so warily. Hector pulled him up onto the deck. One of the crew was offering the strangers drinks of water. The stranger who had first spoken took a cup and put it to his lips. He nodded at the others who immediately drank their fill.

"Thank you," he said.

"Why were you out there with nothing but small boats?" asked Hector.

"Our ships were stranded on a barren island by a huge wave," said another man who also looked like Paris but was lightly bearded and wore a cloth about his head. "We had no choice but to take the boats and try our luck."

"The gods must have smiled upon you then, for you are lucky that we found you," said Hector. "I am Hector, son of King Priam of Troy."

"I am Balian," said the stranger who had first spoken to them. "I am a blacksmith."

"What's a blacksmith?" asked Paris.

"Err..." said Balian. He seemed to be at a loss for words.

"He works with metal," cut in his golden friend. "He makes weapons and the like."

"Ah, a metal smith," said Hector. Balian nodded. The prince turned to the golden man. "And you?"

"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil," he said.

"That is a very strange name," said Paris.

"Paris," chided Hector. He turned to Legolas. "Paris is my younger brother, and I'm sorry if he's offended you."

"Mind you," cut in the man with the braided beard. "'Legless' is truly a very strange name."

"Don't mind Jack Sparrow," said the other man who looked like Paris.

"_Captain_, my dear William. _Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

The others all introduced themselves with foreign sounding names. Barbossa and Jack seemed to be mortal enemies. Hector was intrigued by Balian and his godlike friend Legolas. Both of them were so different from their companions. Balian carried many battle scars and despite the fact that it was he who had first spoken to the Trojan's, he was in fact a man of very few words, preferring actions to speech. Hector was curious about Balian's sword. It was shiny like silver and there was a ruby in the hilt. It was the most beautiful sword that he had ever seen, although the shape was strange.

Legolas was very dignified and Hector sometimes even felt intimidated in his presence. He looked young, but he felt as if he was as wise as any old sage or oracle. The golden being carried two bone-handled knives with blades that were tinted with blue. He also had a beautiful light bow. The prince guessed that he was a warrior, like his friend Balian.

In contrast, the others were a noisy and undignified bunch, maybe with the exception of William, who preferred to be called 'Will'. The Trojan Crown Prince found this shortening of names an interesting idea. Why did anyone want to shorten their name? It wasn't as if William was really a huge mouthful.

Paris wondered how such different people met each other and managed to cooperate. There had to be a fascinating story behind all of this. He was itching to know what it was.

* * *

The next day, the sun rose to find the Trojan ship still alone on the blue sea. Balian woke as the sunlight bathed his face and broke through his dreams. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Hector was already awake. He was carving something out of wood as the wind toyed with his hair. Legolas was at the prow, staring out into the distance while Jack the monkey perched on his shoulder. The elf stroked the small furry animal absent-mindedly. Everyone else was still asleep. 

Hector looked up and smiled genially. "I hope you are well rested," he said.

"I am, thank you," said Balian. He rested his hands on the rail of the ship and took in a deep breath of sea air. It was fresh, with a hint of brine. The wind was comfortably cool but he knew it would get hotter as the day progressed. There was not a wisp of cloud in the sky to shade them from the sun's glare.

Hector glanced at Balian's hand. There was a large scar on the back of it. It looked as if someone had branded the man. Was Balian an escaped slave? If so, the sword which he carried had to have been stolen. "Might I ask how you got that scar?" said the prince.

"He was captured by the enemy and tortured," said Legolas, before Balian could reply. "We were fighting a war against a dark lord who would've taken over our world had we lost."

"I'm sorry," said Hector to Balian. "I shouldn't have asked."

"You saved our lives," said Balian. "You have every right to ask."

'How like Paris he is,' thought Hector as he observed Balian 'and yet they are so different.' It would be interesting to get to know all the newcomers. "How did you get that sword?" he asked out loud.

"It's a family heirloom. My father gave it to me."

"Where's your father?"

"Dead." With some coaxing and prompting from Legolas, Balian told Hector about his life and how he had gotten every single one of his scars. As Hector listened, he felt a stab of pity for the man. He loved both Andromache and Astyanax very much and could not bear the thought of losing either of them. To lose both would be the death of him. Here was a man who had lost both his wife and child, all in the matter of a few months. It was as if the gods had cursed Balian.

Balian finished his story by telling Hector how they became stranded on the island and had to venture out to sea in those little boats. "I'm very glad we met you," said Balian.

"Or else we'd all be mummified," said Jack from behind. It seemed as if everyone had heard Balian's story and they were all looking at him with a mixture of emotions.

"I'm sorry about your wife and child," said Will. "I can't imagine losing Elizabeth... and my son."

"It's alright, Will," said Balian. "It happened four years ago. Time has lessened my pain."

"But it will never really go away," said Hector. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost my wife and son like that."

"God willing, you won't find out," said Balian.

"It's just like one of them fairy tales," whispered Ragetti to Pintel.

"He got rich," said Pintel, staring at Balian, mostly at the sword which the blacksmith was carrying. The fat pirate wondered what the ruby alone was worth. It was bright red and shiny and very beautiful.

"Yeah, but he's still a good man," said Ragetti in awe. "Imagine that —getting rich and still being able to get to Heaven. I wonder how he did that."

Jack rolled his eyes. He was more interested in how Balian got given his immortality. If one was immortal then one would not have to worry about going to either Heaven or Hell, and have time to get rich and drink rum.

* * *

The heat grew intolerable as the day progressed. Many of the men, including Balian, had stripped of their shirts and shoes. Despite the heat, Legolas did not strip off his clothing in the manner of the men, knowing that they would find his hairless body strange. He did not want anyone questioning his ability to sire children. Already, Jack had twice accused Will of being a eunuch, despite the fact that the man had sired a son. The elf felt sympathy for the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, and also admired him for the stoic manner with which he bore the insults. Will just simply ignored Jack. Despite the fact that the elf felt there was something wrong with Will, Legolas was beginning to like him. Will was more dignified and seemed to have more honour than the other pirates. In fact, he was a lot like Balian in some ways. 

Late in the afternoon, Legolas saw land. They had reached Sparta. From a distance, it wasn't much to look at. All they could see were a few galleys and a simple wooden dock. Hector knew that the spirit of Sparta did not lie in its appearance but in the strength of its people.

Balian, Legolas and the pirates stayed on the ship while the princes and their escort went onto the shore where they were greeted by the entire Spartan court. The elf caught a glimpse of the Spartan queen. For a human, she was very beautiful and in total contrast with her husband who was old and fat and completely graceless. He thought that she looked sad. The Trojan princes greeted the King of Sparta. Not once did Helen take her gaze off Paris and the younger prince seemed to return the gesture. It was as if the arrival of Paris had given the queen a spark of hope. Legolas felt that there would be trouble brewing. Men usually did not take well to other men who interested their wives.

Balian noticed that ever since their return to the world of the Living and Will discovered that he could go on land, he had been rather quiet. The blacksmith wondered why Will couldn't go on land in the first place but when he tried asking him, the captain had not given a clear answer. Jack's answers were no more coherent than Will's but Barbossa proved to be much more helpful.

Despite his gruff exterior, the old pirate had a soft heart. The fact that he was helping to support Will's family proved that. It turned out that Will literally didn't have a heart and was therefore technically not alive. 'No wonder Legolas felt there was something wrong with Will,' thought Balian, feeling very sorry for the young pirate.

Ragetti and Pintel had taken to asking Balian questions, much to the others' amusement. Ragetti wanted to know how to be a good man while being a pirate and Pintel wanted to know how to seduce a princess. Balian didn't have any answers and he became more and more flustered as they tried to coax him into telling them. Legolas was bent over double from laughing and when Balian glared at him for not coming to his rescue, the elf just laughed harder.

Jack managed to never find himself alone with Barbossa. He had attached himself to Will. Legolas had befriended the monkey. The furry animal seemed to understand when the elf spoke to him in his native tongue, something which intrigued all of them. The sound of elvish was so musical; it was almost as if the elf was singing even if he was not.

"When do you think the other two will come back?" Barbossa asked Balian one night as the two of them stared out across the dark water.

"I don't know for sure," said Balian "but knowing peace negotiations, it's going to take more than a day or two."

"What about that time at Jerusalem?" asked Barbossa. "You negotiated for peace in under an hour, you said."

"That's different. I was negotiating a surrender."

"I still don't understand why you refused the King's offer," Will cut in. "You could've become king and prevented war from taking place."

"It would have been wrong to be the cause of someone's death," said Balian.

"'E won't sell his soul," interjected Ragetti.

"I'd sell mine, if the price was high enough," said Pintel.

"Well, you ain't no knight, are you?" said Ragetti.

Barbossa rolled his eyes, just as the moon peeked out from behind the clouds. They heard Legolas yelp in alarm. Balian whipped around, hand on sword, ready to fight. He scanned their surroundings. There was no threat in sight.

"The monkey..." began Legolas. His face was as pale as the moon.

"Oh, Jack's undead," said Barbossa. "He does that when the moon shines on him."

"Does what..." began Balian "...oh." His voice trailed off as he saw the animal, or rather, what remained of it. Its flesh had rotted away. Small scraps still hung on its bones. One sight was enough to give a child nightmares for a year. "Why is he like...that?"

"He took a piece of cursed gold..." began Barbossa. With plenty of interruptions from Jack and some from Will, Ragetti and Pintel, the old pirate told them about the chest of eight hundred and eighty two pieces of cursed Aztec gold and the misadventures which ensued from finding it.

"You know," said Balian thoughtfully after the pirates had finished their narrative "if eight hundred and eighty two soldiers took that gold —one piece each— and didn't spend it, they could become an invincible force."

"A truly discomforting notion, mate," said Jack. "Imagine; eight hundred and eighty two invincible men under the command of Cutler Beckett or the like..." The pirate shuddered. "I need some rum." He fished around for his rum bottle but came up empty handed. "Why is the rum always gone?"

"Because you drank it," said Balian.

Jack looked at him as if he had suggested that they all put on dresses and start dancing. "You're not making any sense at all," said the pirate. He sauntered away, leaving Balian utterly perplexed.

"Just ignore him," advised Will. "He does that a lot."

"Aye," said Barbossa. "It's the lack of rum that's put him in such a mood."

"If he's like that when he's sober, then I don't want to know what he's like when he's drunk," said Legolas.

"Oh, I like him better when he's drunk," said Barbossa. "He's much easier to trick."

* * *

**A/N:** A little bit of action in this chapter. It takes a while for them all to get to know each other and become friends (maybe). The next chapter will be more interesting, I promise. Reviews please! They make me write faster and I might even post within this weekend if I get enough of them :) 

**Aeneas - **cousin of Hector and Paris

**Calchas **- High Priest of Troy

**Cassandra** - seer whom no one believes because she's cursed by the gods. Younger sister of Hector and Paris.

**Ganymede **- Younger brother of Hector and Paris


	4. Hashashin!

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Hector, Paris etc. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them.

**Chapter 4: Hashashin!**

For the first time in his life, Paris felt that he had met his soul mate…in Queen Helen of Sparta whose beauty seemed to surpass every other woman's. He knew that this was the last thing Troy needed. They were here to negotiate a peace treaty, not steal other men's wives, but the young man's basic nature won over his common sense. He was in love and he was so certain that if he needed to die for Helen, then so be it. It was agony, watching Menelaus treat her as if she was just another ornament which decorated his halls.

There was no doubt that Helen felt something for the young prince. Her eyes followed his every move although she dared not speak to him unless it was to exchange pleasantries. How different he was from Menelaus. Where the King of Sparta was rough and loud, Paris was gentle and quiet. He had an air of innocence and naivety about him which attracted Helen as the scent of nectar attracts a butterfly. If only she was free of Menelaus.

Paris ached to free his pent up feelings, but he knew he could not confide in anyone, not even Hector. Especially not Hector. The older prince was a rigid and honourable man who loved Troy above all else. Although Paris loved him and respected him, he doubted that his brother would understand how he was feeling. He sighed. It would have to wait. Both he and Helen dared not show their feelings.

Someone was addressing him. He turned around to find a Spartan noble. 'Here we go again,' thought Paris as he launched into another bout of pleasantries.

* * *

Legolas was restless. Maybe it was being in such close proximity to the sea which was making him feel like this. His sea-longing had not abated at all ever since he and Balian were shipwrecked. He leaned on the rail and gazed at the stars. Jack the monkey leapt onto the rail and gave and chattered in his own tongue. He held a nut in one small hand and was gazing at the elf with dark soulful eyes. The elf smiled down at the monkey, who quickly lost interest and started gnawing on the nut. 'If only my life was as simple as yours,' thought Legolas.

"Is your sea-longing bothering you again?" said Balian, coming to join the elf.

"Yes, no, yes..." said Legolas.

"So is that a yes or a no?"

"Yes... a bit. How do you know about sea-longing?"

"Gandalf explained it...or tried to. I still don't understand it. Does it mean you want to sail the seas forever?"

"It's not like that, Balian. It's hard to explain."

"We have a lot of time," said Will, entering into the conversation. "Tell us what this 'sea-longing' is. Maybe we can help."

"Or not," muttered Jack. "The rum's all gone."

* * *

Will couldn't sleep. He couldn't help but feel uneasy. He wasn't supposed to be here. The deal was that he ferried the souls for ten years and yet here he was, torn from his task with no explanation whatsoever. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Something compelled him to look into the dark water. The reflection of the moon's face stared up at him, and then it warped until he saw Calypso.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded of her in a whisper. He didn't want to wake the others.

"You have a task here, William Turner," she said. Her voice was like that of the waves crashing upon the shore.

"I'm not supposed to leave my post."

"We, heathen gods, as you call us, have discussed this. You will not be held responsible. When you get back, you will still be who you are now."

"What am I supposed to do here?"

"You will see, Captain. You will see."

'Heathen gods,' thought Will. 'Why won't they give straight answers?'

* * *

Hector leaned on the low wall which surrounded the balcony and gazed eastwards to Troy, towards his homeland. He wondered what his wife was doing at the moment. Probably singing Astyanax to sleep, or trying to. Andromache couldn't sing, no matter how hard she tried. Paris could sing better than she could and when Paris sang —which was thankfully seldom— he sounded like an ox in the rut. The moon bathed the Trojan prince in mellow silver light. Paris was asleep. It had been a mistake allowing Paris to come to Sparta. He should've remembered that Queen Helen of Sparta was rumoured to be the most beautiful woman in the world.

A sound behind him made Hector whip around. "Who's there?" he said into the darkness of the room. It did not come from the bed where Paris was sleeping.

"What?" said a sleepy Paris.

"There's something out there," said Hector. His wariness heightened and his hand strayed to his belt where he always had a dagger. Something was not right. No friendly guest would come in unannounced and hide in the shadows. He heard the scuff of a sandal and then something knocked him off his feet.

In the darkness, could see the black struggling shapes of his brother and the mysterious assailant. Other figures leapt out to attack Hector. The younger prince finally found his voice. "Intruder!" he shouted. He reached for his own dagger, only to find that he had misplaced it. A man leapt at him. Paris saw the glint of bronze in the moonlight. The prince reached out to search for anything that he could defend himself with and found himself hurling the empty chamber pot at his attacker.

There was the pounding of feet outside and then soldiers, Trojan and Spartan alike, burst into the room, led by King Menelaus. Outnumbered, the princes' assailants were easily overcome and cut down in the chaotic moments that followed. The oil lamps were lit to reveal the aftermath. Six men lay dead. Their blood had been sprayed onto the walls and now stained the floor boards and the animal skins which decorated it.

"What is going on?" demanded Menelaus. "Who are these men?" He flipped over one of the bodies with his foot. The man's face was covered with cloth, leaving only his eyes. With disdain, the king removed the fabric.

"A Phoenician?" said Hector. What did the Phoenicians have against him?

"Here's a Hittite," said someone else. "And a Trojan as well."

"Mercenaries," spat Menelaus. "I should've been more prepared."

"What do you mean?" said Paris.

"Before you came to Sparta, I received a message from my brother Agamemnon," began Menelaus. "He wanted me to arrange Prince Hector's death. I refused. I couldn't betray a guest under my protection."

Hector stared at Menelaus, whom he knew to be an honourable and honest man. He could see only the truth in the king's eyes. "Why would Agamemnon want me dead?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," said Menelaus. "I don't think he thought up this all by himself. Someone else wants you dead very much, which might mean you are needed in Troy. I think you should leave soon. You'll be safer in your own land and you might find more answers there."

"We'll leave the day after tomorrow," said Hector. "I'll send word to the crew and give them a day to get ready."

* * *

The sky was cloudless and the sea was calm on the day the two Trojan princes set sail for Troy. Balian hoped that there would be no more unexpected storms or whirlpools to suck them into God knew where. Hector had given a very vague explanation for their sudden departure from Sparta. They only knew that the princes were needed back home. Paris was unnaturally quiet, as if he was hiding something, but no one questioned him about it. If he wanted to hide something then it was his business.

When Sparta was out of sight, Paris nervously approached Hector, although he tried to seem relaxed. "A beautiful morning," he said, glancing up at the sky. The sea breezes tugged at his dark curls like a playful lover. Hector did not look up from his half finished carving of a wooden lion. "Poseidon has blessed our voyage."

"Sometimes the gods bless you in the morning and curse you in the afternoon," said Hector.

"Do you love me, brother?" said Paris abruptly. "Would you protect me against any enemy?"

"Last time you spoke to me like this, you were ten years old and you had just stolen Father's horse," said Hector. "What have you done now?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow. He had heard every word and nothing that he had heard improved his opinion of the younger prince very much. Paris was too flippant and irresponsible. It seemed that he always relied on his brother to hold up the sky when he caused it to fall.

Paris was silent for a while, and then he met Hector's gaze. "I must show you something," he said. He went and opened the hatch which allowed them to go below deck and climbed down. Hector followed.

Balian wandered to Legolas' side. "What do you think he's got hidden down there?" said the blacksmith.

"Something which Hector won't be very pleased about," replied the elf.

"Now, that just goes without sayin', Master Legolas," said Barbossa, coming over to join them.

"I'll bet he stole something," said Will.

"How much are you willing to bet?" asked Jack. A voice from below deck stopped Will from having to answer.

"Helen of Sparta?" roared Hector. He clambered back onto the deck. His face was dark with the impending storm of temper which he was about to unleash. "Turn her around! Back to Sparta!"

"He definitely stole something," said Will.

"You mean 'borrowed'," said Jack. "Borrowed without permission and with no intention whatsoever of returning her to her husband."

"Excuse me," said Balian. "Isn't that exactly the same thing as stealing?"

"Of course not," said Jack. "There is a world of difference."

"He means in the wording," said Will.

"Oh," said Balian and Legolas together.

"For a man who's just found out that his brother has stolen the queen of an ally, Hector's pretty calm," said Barbossa.

"It's called royal dignity, Captain Barbossa," said Legolas. "All princes are expected to have it."

"Hopefully returning the queen to her husband will resolve everything," said Balian. His voice was full of worry. He thought back to his affair with Sibylla. What a dangerous game they had been playing. One mistake could have brought about both their deaths or worse, cast the kingdom into civil war. "An unfaithful wife is not something that you'd want to start a war over."

Legolas glanced at Balian. He knew exactly what was on the blacksmith's mind. "You and Sibylla, you were different," said the elf.

"It was exactly the same," said Balian, shaking his head in shame.

"We all make mistakes," said Legolas. "At least you refrained from making even bigger ones."

Hector was close to screaming at Paris. They were all impressed with how the older prince managed to refrain from cursing or just throwing his brother overboard. Paris had probably just ruined the Spartan-Trojan alliance with his little romance. "I won't let you start a war for her," Hector was saying. His voice was rough with anger.

"May I speak?" said Paris. "What you say is true. I've wronged you. I've wronged our father. If you want to take Helen back to Sparta then so be it, but I go with her."

"What an idiot," muttered Jack.

"To Sparta?" said Hector. "They'll kill you."

"Then I'll die fighting," said Paris.

"Oh, that sounds heroic to you, doesn't it, to die fighting?" said Hector. "Tell me, little brother, have you ever killed a man."

Paris looked down at his feet, unwilling to meet Hector's furious gaze. "No," he said in a quiet voice.

"Have you ever seen a man get killed?"

"No."

"Well, I've killed men," said Hector, bringing his face closer to Paris' and forcing his brother to look at him. His voice was a low grating growl. "I've watched them dying and I've heard them dying and there's nothing romantic about it; nothing poetic!" His voice rose. "You say you want to die for love but you know nothing about dying and you know nothing about love!"

Paris glanced up, just for a moment, but long enough for them to see the love-crazed determination in the liquid brown orbs. "All the same," he said. His voice was hard and he allowed nothing to sway his decision. "I go with her. I won't ask you to fight my war."

"You already have," said Hector. His voice was barely above a hoarse defeated whisper and in his face, the others could see despair. "To Troy!"

Balian felt as if he ought to say something to stop this madness before it became worse but what could he do? He was a stranger in a foreign land and he did not even know Hector and Paris well enough. He had no right to voice his opinion to them on this matter. The man caught Legolas' eye. The elf's face was grim. Apparently, he felt the same way.

* * *

_She was straining to reach him, but demonic talons held her back. Her cracked and bleeding lips formed his name. Balian! Balian! Glistening tears streamed from her bloodshot eyes. The dark purple marks on her neck stood out starkly against her pale flesh. He wanted to go to her, to take her in his arms and to shield her from all evil, but he couldn't reach her. He tried to scream out her name, but his voice only came out as a strangled whisper. He quickened his pace and ran towards the maw of hell but it seemed to grow further and further away and Jocelyn along with it..._

Balian's eyes flew open. He was drenched with sweat. Ever since he had woken up after he had taken his wound before the Black Gates, he'd had that dream whenever he had slept. No one else knew about the dream except him, not even Legolas. It was too intimate to share, and it was his problem, not anyone else's. He rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he was now wide awake. He lay there with his ear against the wooden boards. There was a soft footfall. He frowned. Who was awake during this time of night?

The blacksmith pretended to be asleep but kept his eyes open as narrow slits. A shadow passed before his vision. Someone was nearing him. He tensed, but forced himself to keep still. A figure loomed over him. He saw the glint of a blade. Just as the blade came down, Balian rolled away, kicking the man's feet from underneath him and making the would-be murderer fall to the deck with a grunt. "Hashashin!" shouted Balian, for lack of a good word in his own tongue. It didn't matter if it was in Arabic or Greek or something else. Everyone woke up, groping for their weapons. Balian drew his sword from its sheath. The steel blade cut through the bronze ones as if they were made out of mud.

"Go to Hell, ya scurvy dogs!" he heard Barbossa shout as the old pirate held his own against multiple assailants. The pirates had strange thin swords which looked as if they would be easy to break. However, they also looked as if they were easier to wield than Balian's heavy long sword. Legolas' knives were a shiny blur as the elf moved at a speed which the human eye was unable to follow. While they were all occupied, the elf noticed that their attackers were congregating around the area where the princes and Helen had been sleeping. No doubt they were all awake by now but the elf did not think that two men could defend themselves against so many. "Balian!" he shouted. "Barbossa! Will! To the prow!"

"Oi! Wait for me!" said Jack. The four of them battled against the horde of mysterious assailants and made their way to the prow, which was already blocked by the men. Will stabbed someone through the stomach. His sword made a squelching noise as it entered flesh. Foul smelling stomach acids and bile spilled out, splashing onto the deck. Balian slit someone's throat. Hot salty blood sprayed his face. He pushed aside the corpse and forced his way to the front of the ship. Legolas was directly behind him.

Surrounded by attackers clothed in black in the semi-darkness, Hector was fighting for his life. He didn't know what was happening. All he remembered was waking up to someone shouting in a foreign tongue and then narrowly avoiding the downward plunge of a blade which would've otherwise pierced his heart. He heard Helen scream as Paris cursed.

Helen had never been so afraid, not even when she had been sent to marry Menelaus. She couldn't see Paris. The dark men hid him from her sight. She screamed out his name and jumped backwards as one of the men tried to strike at her. A hand grabbed her and pulled her out of harm's way. She didn't know who it was, but it didn't feel like Paris. Her rescuer caught hold of the attacker's wrist. "Now that's not very nice," he said. Helen caught a glimpse of golden teeth and a whiff of foul breath.

The monkey had latched onto some unfortunate's face, screeching as he tried to claw out the man's eyes. No matter what the man tried, he could not get rid of the half-rotten little creature.

Paris saw the point of a sword coming straight towards his chest. He was paralysed by fear. Something knocked him off his feet, saving him from being stabbed. It was Balian. The other man parried the blow, caught the blade with the guard of his sword and then with a rotating move, decapitated his adversary.

The fight was finally over. All the mysterious assailants lay dead. No one was seriously hurt although the monkey had been stabbed multiple times. The deck was slick with blood. "Who were they?" demanded Will.

"The oarsmen," said Hector. "I recognize them."

"Why would they want to kill you?" asked Balian.

"I don't know," said Hector "but Menelaus said that we might find more answers in Troy."

"I dunno if I like this," said Ragetti to Pintel. "We're not undead no more."

"You saved us," said Paris, staring in particular at Balian.

"We are indebted to you all," said Hector.

"You're welcome," said Jack.

"Now that we've killed all the oarsmen, how are we going to get back to Troy?" asked Paris.

"I'll take the helm," volunteered Jack. Everyone looked at him incredulously. Hector wasn't sure if he was ready to entrust his safety to this man. Jack seemed a little strange; too strange for Hector's liking.

"No," said Barbossa. "If there's to be anyone to man the helm then it should be a _real _captain."

"I'm captain," said Jack, running to the helm. He slipped in the blood and fell face-flat on the deck. Barbossa overtook him and took charge of the helm.

"I thought you were the captain of a ship," said Legolas to Will.

"I'm happy to leave those two to it," said Will. "I've spent more than enough time captaining a ship. A rest is always welcome."

"I suppose I'll row then," said Balian, taking an oar.

"You know," said Jack, clambering to his feet "one oarsman isn't going to make any difference." He pulled out his pistol and took aim at a spot close to Barbossa. There was a loud clapping bang which made Balian and Legolas hasten to protect their ears. An inhuman shriek rang out. Jack hurriedly pressed the pistol into Balian's hand.

"He shot Jack!" said Pintel, pointing at Jack the pirate with an accusing finger. Ragetti nodded emphatically.

"I did not!" said Jack indignantly. "Anyway, I'm still alive. No harm done." Balian still held the smoking pistol and was turning it over in his hands, examining the strange artefact.

"Jack!" said Will in exasperation. "You're such a rum-soaked...pirate."

"Correct, William," said Jack. "Once again you have proved yourself to be extraordinarily adept at pointing out the obvious."

"Now, Jack Sparrow," said Barbossa in his drawl. "Who was it that shot me monkey?" Jack glanced at Balian meaningfully but no one believed him. The blacksmith was not the type to engage in such immature behaviour.

"Maybe for _once_ you can tell the truth, Jack?" said Will.

"Who died and made you boss?" demanded the pirate.

"Davy Jones."

"Oh. Now I remember. You owe me for that one, William Turner."

"Excuse me," said Legolas. "If the monkey cannot die, does it matter who shot it?"

"It's all a matter of pride, Master Legolas," said Barbossa.

"He stole my ship," said Jack quickly. "Twice."

"And you stole my map," said Barbossa, advancing menacingly towards Jack. Balian reminded himself not to cross Barbossa.

"Only once," said Jack with a smug grin. "Anyway, I was just borrowing it. Borrowing it without permission and with no intention whatsoever of returning it to you, savvy?"

"Maybe we can leave this until later," said Will. "After we make port. Hector and Paris need to get to Troy as soon as possible."

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," said Jack and Barbossa sarcastically. They both raced for the helm again. Barbossa gave Jack a shove, causing the other pirate to overbalance and fall. The old pirate reached the helm and Jack made a face at him. Then resignedly, he joined Balian, Legolas, Will, Ragetti and Pintel in rowing.

Seeing that his guests were willing to work as oarsmen, Hector motioned to Paris and the two brothers settled themselves at an oar each.

* * *

**A/N:** They reach Troy the next chapter. More chaos ensues (as expected). Please review and feel free to make suggestions or give me advice. Oh, and if you're an anonymous reviewer and would like a reply, do include your email.

**Hashashin — **Arabic word for 'assassin'. The word assassin is derived from it.


	5. To Troy

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector…you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 5: To Troy**

Barbossa expertly steered the ship so that it made the best possible use of the wind to make up for their lack of oarsmen. The rowing was uncoordinated at best. Everyone rowed at a different pace for they were not used to rowing. Will finally synchronized their rowing by counting out loud. Hector would never though that rowing took so much skill. It looked so easy and simple when the oarsmen did it.

The sun blazed down on them, causing sweat to run down their faces and soak into their clothes. Helen brought out food and drink and shared it around. If she wasn't Menelaus' wife then the eldest prince might even have approved of her as a sister by marriage. When she reached Hector, she refused to look him in the eye, knowing that her presence on the ship was the cause of his troubles. Hector hardly glanced at her. His mind was working furiously to find a way to avoid war without getting his love-struck brother killed.

They came within sight of Troy on the fourth day after the latest attempt on Hector's life. The walls looked to be golden at first glance, jutting up proudly into a clear blue sky while a wide stretch of azure water lay before it like a shimmering sheet of blue silk which stretched out to the very ends of the world. The view gave Balian a sense of familiarity.

"I've seen it before," he said to no one in particular.

"Where?" asked Legolas. He had overheard his friend and was curious as to what he was talking about.

"I saw it in Lady Galadriel's mirror," said Balian. "I'd forgotten about it but seeing the city made me remember." He took a deep breath. "I think I saw Hector too, and a giant wooden horse which towered above everyone, casting a huge dark shadow on the land. I don't know what that means. And then I saw the city burning."

"That's not a good sign," said Jack, who had overheard the second half of the conversation.

"Are you turning into Gibbs, Jack?" said Will. "What's not a good sign?"

"The city burning," said Jack. He turned to Balian. "That's what you said, ain't it?"

"What city burning?" demanded Hector.

"_That_ city, mate," said Jack, pointing at Troy.

"Do not tempt the Fates," growled the prince.

"I didn't say it," said Jack. "He did." The pirate pointed at Balian.

"He saw it," said Legolas quickly. "It was a vision."

"A vision?" said Hector. Was Balian a seer, or was he mad, like Cassandra? "Tell me more."

"There is nothing more to tell," said Balian. "I suppose I did see Barbossa's ship as well but that has already come to pass."

This did nothing to improve Hector's mood. If Balian's vision was indeed a true vision, then it meant that Troy was doomed. War was inevitable, and it was a war that they could not win. Helen had to go back to Sparta. If he had to lock up Paris in order to send her back, then he would do just that.

They were very close to Troy now. Hector looked magnificent in his armour although the same could not be said of Paris. The armour looked awkward and heavy on him.

"Your highnesses," said Barbossa, taking off his large feathered hat and sweeping a low bow. "We will make port in half an hour."

"Thank you, err, Captain Barbossa," said Hector. He had not yet decided what to make of the old sailor. Barbossa had an elegance which many courtiers lacked and yet from the stories that had been told, Hector knew he could be as rough and rash as any mercenary.

"One question," said Legolas. "Once we arrive, what do we do?"

"You are our guests," said Hector. "After all, you have saved our lives and the least I can do is offer you some Trojan hospitality." Legolas was another mystery. His senses were keener than any man's and at night, he seemed to glow. The prince had heard Balian mention something about immortality. Legolas certainly seemed older than he looked.

Jack interrupted his thoughts. "I like the sound of that!" said the pirate cheerfully. "Is there any rum in Troy? I've run out."

"Good," muttered Will.

Hector grimaced to himself. He was not looking forward to introducing _Captain_ Jack Sparrow to his father. What would Priam make of this less-than-honourable character? 'I'll deal with it when the time comes,' he decided. Sometimes it was better to not think about such things.

* * *

The golden stretch of sand reminded Balian of the Holy Land. There were a few palm trees growing here and there. Outside the city was something that looked like a temple. A golden statue of an archer knelt on the steps, pointing his arrow into the sky. Men were waiting there with horses on and a chariot for the two princes. When they saw Helen and the newcomers, more than a few eye brows were raised by no one said anything. They trusted that Hector knew what he was doing.

Barbossa eyed his horse —a placid palomino mare which looked as if she was more interested in dozing than throwing her rider— warily. He had never ridden one before and he had no desire to ride one. He did not trust these large animals or any means of transport which had a mind of its own.

"It's alright, Barbossa," said Will, awkwardly heaving himself onto his horse's back. It seemed that saddles and stirrups had not been invented yet. Having once been a blacksmith's apprentice meant that he was more familiar with these animals than the pirates were. "Horses don't bite…usually."

"You ain't gonna bite ole Jack, are you, luv?" said Jack to his horse. The animal flattened its ears and sidestepped, snorting as it did so.

"I ain't gettin' on," said Ragetti stubbornly. "'e could run off wif me on 'is back. I don't wanna get lost."

"You have to ride, or you'll be too slow," said Balian. "It's quite safe. Just hold on tight and nothing will happen to you."

"Easy for you to say," said Barbossa. "You look like you were born on a horse."

Paris helped Helen into the chariot and then got up beside her. A groom handed the prince the reins. They were all ready to go, if only the pirates could get over their fear of large land-bound animals.

"You can either ride or you can run behind," said Hector. "It doesn't really matter but we cannot tarry any longer."

"I shall ride," said Jack in the most pompous tone that he could muster "...in style." Will bit back a snort of laughter as he recognized the style of speech that Cutler Beckett had been so fond of.

"What d'you know about style?" demanded Barbossa, raising an eyebrow.

"One thing mate; I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?" Jack scrambled onto the horse's back as someone held it still for him and immediately slipped off the other side and into the sand.

"Is that supposed to mean anything?" Legolas asked Will.

"I don't think so but with Jack, you never know," Will replied.

Jack finally got onto the horse and stayed there. He dusted the sand off himself. "Not so bad," he said. "The view is rather more spectacular-er from up here, and I'm taller than Barbossa, even with his big hat."

"You're not going to let him get away with that, are you, Captain Barbossa?" said Will.

"Well, he's gonna have to," said Jack smugly. "He can't ride."

"Want to bet on it, Sparrow?" growled Barbossa.

"I'll bet my hat that you can't get on your horse," said Jack in a sing-song voice.

Barbossa sneered and hauled himself up with such grace that everyone was impressed. Despite his age, Barbossa was really very nimble.

Jack's face fell. "I'm not givin' up me hat," he told Barbossa.

"I don't want your hat," said Barbossa. "But you do have something else that I want."

"I swear on my children's lives that I don't know what you're talking about."

"You don't have any children."

"I might do...out there...somewhere..."

Legolas rolled his eyes. "We're wasting time," he said. He turned to Ragetti and Pintel. "You two," he said sharply in a commanding tone that his father often used to make his subjects cower. "Get on your horses."

Used to obeying others, the two shabby pirates quickly did as they were told. Finally, they were ready to go into Troy.

The chariot went first, followed by Hector on horseback. Balian found it awkward to ride without a saddle or stirrups. How did one fight on horseback without those essential pieces of tack? Wouldn't the horseman fall off? 'If I do fight, it'll be on foot,' he decided.

The wooden gates of Troy creaked open, pushed by four men. Loud cheers for the princes washed over them like waves from the ocean. The citizens had lined the streets to welcome Hector and Paris home. Children waved, and Hector raised his hand to return the greeting. 'They love him,' thought Balian. The animated welcome made him feel warm, even though it was not meant for him. It reminded him of the first time he had laid eyes on Ibelin. If the people of Troy loved Hector so much, then he must indeed be a great man.

The blacksmith caught Legolas' eye. The elf glanced behind them and winked. Balian followed Legolas' line of sight until he saw what had amused the elf. Barbossa clutched the reins tightly in one fist while the fingers of his other hand were tangled in the horse's mane. He was as stiff as the mast of a ship. In total contrast, Jack was as excited as a child who had found his Christmas gift early and seemed to be enjoying his little ride through Troy. He waved wildly at the people until he became too enthusiastic to concentrate on riding and overbalanced. The horse sauntered off without him, leaving him chasing after the rest of the procession.

The Trojan palace looked like a small city within the larger city, with high yellow walls. A long flight of steps led up to the main citadel. Paris halted his chariot before the steps. Getting down, he offered Helen his hand and helped her out of the chariot. The Spartan queen was wearing a long white robe hemmed with golden thread. A circlet of golden leaves perched on her hair which was the same colour as Legolas'. The sun's rays reflecting off the overwhelming amount of gold made her look as if she was glowing with a divine light.

Once on the ground, she looked up at Paris and gave him a small smile. Balian could tell that she was nervous. He didn't blame her. From what Hector had said, her presence had ruined all the years that old King Priam had spent working for peace.

Hector slid off his horse with practised ease and took his place at the head of the procession. The rest of them dismounted, and a breathless Jack finally caught up with them. "I hate horses," he muttered.

Balian fell into step beside Legolas. The elf was attracting an abnormal number of stares, probably because of his colouring. The two friends followed Hector up to the citadel, where a delegation of Trojan nobles waited with the king for the princes' return. Hector entered the citadel first, followed by Paris with Helen. The others trailed behind them. Balian caught sight of Will from the corner of his eye. The pirate seemed very uncomfortable. He was probably feeling the way Balian had felt when he had entered a palace back in Jerusalem. Jack acted in a dramatically overdone solemn manner. 'He carries himself like a pompous bishop,' thought the blacksmith.

Will tried his best to look as if he didn't know Jack. He was nervous enough as it was. It was even more awkward than when he had visited Governor Swann's mansion back when he had been a blacksmith's apprentice; before Jack Sparrow had entered his life and changed it forever. Will still could not decide whether he should hate Jack or thank him.

Priam stood at the top of the steps, dressed in a loose robe of deep blue. His skin was wrinkled and spotted with age and his hair was totally white. Balian thought he looked old enough to be Godfrey's father. The King cupped his eldest son's face in his withered hands and kissed Hector on the forehead. "My son," he said tenderly. Hector dipped his head in deference to his father and then stepped aside to let Paris go up to greet the old king.

"Paris," said Priam with a genial smile. He looked very proud, just like any indulgent parent. Balian could remember that his mother had once looked at him in exactly the same way. The King kissed the younger prince on the forehead as well.

"Father," said Paris, drawing Helen forwards. The woman clasped her hands tightly before her and looked down at her feet. "This is Helen."

"Helen?" said Priam. "Helen of Sparta?"

"Helen of Troy," said Paris adamantly. He gave Helen a little nudge, and she stepped closer to the King, although she still did not dare to look at him.

"I have heard rumours of your beauty," said Priam, kissing her on both cheeks. Unlike Hector, there was no outburst of temper, only calm acceptance. It seemed that the King bore Helen no ill-will for ruining the chance for peace between Troy and Sparta. "For once, gossips were right." He took her hand as if she was his own daughter. "You must be tired." This left Balian, Legolas and the pirates lingering at the entrance, feeling exposed and uncertain as to what they should do. Hector saw them.

"Father," he said, indicating the foreigners. "These men, they saved our lives and I owe them thanks." He beckoned to them. Mustering all his grace and dignity as the elven prince of Greenwood the Great, Legolas stepped inside the citadel with his head held high. He had dealt with numerous kings in his life time. What difference would one more make? Priam did not seem like a tyrant who was to be feared.

Murmurs rippled through the gathered Trojans as they took in his appearance and demeanour. Balian thought he heard the words 'god' and 'divine' more than once. He scanned the faces of the people present.

One man in particular caught his eye. He was old and dripped with ornaments. His eyes were hard and piercing like spearheads and he was scowling as if he was not pleased that the princes had returned home. He had no time to think about it as he heard Hector call his name. Stepping forwards, Balian fell onto one knee and bowed his head. "Your majesty," he said.

"Look up, so that I may see your face, young man," said the King. Balian lifted his eyes to meet Priam's.

"How can this be?" breathed Priam as he took in the blacksmith's features. "You...you...it has to be some trick..."

"I assure you, Father, there is no trick," said Hector hurriedly before matters could get any worse. "There is more than one man who has Paris' face." The prince beckoned to Will. Jack gave him a small shove. The pirate stepped forward and bowed awkwardly at the waist. "This is Will Turner," said the prince. "He, Legolas and Balian all have Paris' face. I think this is a sign from the gods."

"Calchas, old friend," said Priam, turning to the man who had been scowling just moments before. "What do you make of this?"

Calchas stepped forward and peered into each of their faces. "I can see nothing that would indicate that there is anything special about these men. It may be merely a coincidence that they look like Prince Paris."

"A coincidence?" said Hector. "Are you sure you are not mistaken, High Priest?"

"Hector, show some respect," chided Priam. "You should trust the High Priest's words. He is, after all, a servant of the gods."

Hector bowed his head in apology. He had no desire to argue with his father. He was tired and anxious to see the rest of his family.

Jack was next. The pirate took off his hat and swept a low and dramatic bow. "Captain Jack Sparrow at your service," said Jack. "Although I do ask a favour of you."

Everyone was speechless and Hector cringed inwardly.

"Ask, Captain," said the king, unperturbed.

"D'you by chance have any rum in your most glorious and plentiful city?"

* * *

The others were introduced one by one although Jack the monkey was the only one who even came close to making a first impression as dramatic as Jack the pirate's had been. Hector released a sigh of relief when it was all over. Now he could go and rest.

"Hector!" cried another voice. The prince looked up to see his cousin Aeneas hurrying towards him with a grin on his face. "Hector! I am so glad to see you." The two men embraced each other. "Well, Light of the Dardan Lands, do you bring peace with you?"

Hector sighed. "It's a long story," he said. "And there will be time to tell it, but it is not now. You look well, Cousin."

"As do you," said Aeneas. "Who are the foreigners?"

Before Hector could answer, he heard a high voice call Paris' name. Briseis had come and she ran towards Paris to throw her arms about his neck. The other two went over to join them. Briseis was a sweet-natured girl whom everyone adored. Hector took in her garb. So she had finally made her decision and decided to dedicate herself to Apollo instead of a man.

"Hector!" This was a voice that he knew very well and loved very much. Andromache was here, standing beside a crib which held his baby son. Hector quickly excused himself from Aeneas and went to his wife. He enveloped her in his arms while she layered kisses on him.

"I've missed you," he murmured into her hair which smelled of incense and rose petals.

"We've missed you too," said Andromache. Then she pulled away from him as she remembered Astyanax in his crib. She picked him up. "Look," she said to Hector who by now was grinning like a simpleton. Delight shone in his eyes.

"He's grown," he breathed.

Balian felt a pang of regret as he watched Hector and his family. 'It could've been me,' he thought. Indeed, he could have had what Hector now had, with Jocelyn, with Sibylla, but both had left him.

Hector now held his baby son in his arms. He shone with fatherly pride. Seeing his new friends standing alone, he went over to them to show off his son.

Jack looked bored but Balian immediately felt tremendous love for Hector's child. "He's beautiful," he told the prince sincerely as the baby clutched his finger.

"Here we go," said Legolas. "Nanny Balian resurfaces."

"What?!" said Will. Jack was laughing too hard to say anything and Hector just gaped.

"Nanny Balian?" he asked. "Where did that come from?"

"We forgot to tell you, Balian is a professional nanny," said Legolas with a straight face although they could all tell that he was trying very hard not to laugh.

"You jest," said Paris whose eyes were round with shock.

"No, I tell the truth," said Legolas. "While in Rohan, he was charged with taking care of the orphans. You should've seen him. Three of them rode a horse which he was leading and one was perched on his hip. By the end of the day, they were begging him to tell them stories and calling him 'Uncle' and other embarrassing names which I will not mention."

"I am going to kill you, Legolas Greenleaf," muttered Balian.

* * *

Cassandra could hear voices coming from the main hall. Dread gripped her and she felt as if all her guts had turned into rock. Her brothers were back, and they had brought the doom of Troy with them. She ran out, not caring to check her appearance first. "We're doomed," she whispered. "We're doomed..." As she neared the main hall, her sense of dread grew stronger until she wanted to scream. And then she saw him, standing with Hector and playing with Astyanax. The sight of him made calmness wash over her. Her dread dissipated, for there was a man who had been blessed by the divine powers. He was beautiful, so like Paris and yet not like him. It was as if Hector and Paris had merged to form this man.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. There were many strangers in foreign garb. An old man with a monkey on his shoulder stood nearby, observing all that was going on. The monkey spotted her and started to point and chatter, attracting its master's attention. The old man saw Cassandra, and he smiled. "Greetings, young missy."

"Greetings," returned Cassandra warily. Who were these foreigners? She had no time to wonder for what she saw next did make her scream. Paris was with a foreign woman; a woman whom she knew to be Helen of Sparta.

"Bane of Troy!" she cried in her shrill high voice. "You have doomed us all, Spartan Vixen!"

"Cassandra!" said Priam, finally losing his temper. Gripped in the throes of prophetic frenzy, his daughter ignored him.

"The Greeks will come! They will destroy us! They will burn Troy to the ground! The gods have cursed us! There will be no more Troy! Mourn, all ye sons and daughters of Troy! Weep, for your motherland will be no more!"

Paris tried his best to calm her down, but to no avail. Cassandra would not be placated. He looked to Hector for help, but even the Crown Prince was at a loss when it came to dealing with Cassandra. And Priam was getting angrier by the moment.

The girl's outburst had shocked everyone into silence. She reminded Balian of a maddened horse, spooked by something that only she could see. Quickly making up his mind, he went to help Paris. It would be wise to take her away before the King lost his temper completely. Together, the two men half-carried Cassandra away deeper into the palace through a dark labyrinth of corridors.

"Shh," said Paris. "Nothing will happen to Troy. Hector will know what to do. No Greek will set foot inside our high walls. We are safe."

"We will burn," she sobbed. "We will burn until there is nothing left but the ashes of our bones."

"Nothing is certain yet, my lady," said Balian. Cassandra looked up at him. Her sobbing subsided.

"You have lost much and known much grief," she said. Although she was young, her eyes seemed to be as wise as those of a grandmother. "Will you save Troy as you have saved the other cities?"

Balian was taken aback by her question. How did she know about his past?

Paris seemed embarrassed. "Don't mind her," he said. "She thinks she's a seer, but we know better."

Balian didn't answer. He stared at Cassandra and her wild eyes stared back at him, full of silent pleading. "I will try," he finally said.

They were only three words, but they were enough to make Cassandra smile.

* * *

**A/N: **Once again, I say that Balian will _not _have a romantic relationship. He is still in love with Sibylla and he is also being plagued by dreams of his wife in Hell. Cassandra is a teenage girl and teenage girls have crushes. Hopefully we'll meet Achilles soon. I can't wait for him to meet our friends from all the other worlds. Please leave a review for this poor deprived author. 


	6. A Dream from Hell

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I wish I owned Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Hector, Paris etc. but I don't. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 6: A Dream from Hell**

As Paris and Balian made their way through dark corridors of stone back to the main hall, the younger Trojan prince noticed that the other man seemed unnaturally tense. It was probably Cassandra's 'prophecy' that made him feel so uneasy. It was strange, really. Cassandra usually did not react so well to people who were not immediate family and yet she seemed to like Balian, and unlike other men, he had been able to calm her down with very few words. 'Maybe there is something special about him after all,' thought Paris.

Balian was deep in thought. A few years ago, he would have been unnerved if someone he had just met spoke to him of his past, but after meeting Lady Galadriel, this sort of thing had ceased to frighten him. It was curious though. If Cassandra was truly a seer, why did her family treat her as if she was mad? He looked at the younger prince. "Paris," he began. "Cassandra...is she..."

"Something's not quite right with her head," said Paris. "She thinks she's a sibyl, but she isn't. Everyone in Troy knows it, except her."

"If she is mad, then how does she know about my past?"

"Maybe she overheard something, or it's just a total coincidence. If she was a prophetess, the priests would know."

They stepped out into the light of the great hall. The Queen had arrived. Immediately, Balian could see the family resemblance. Paris had his mother's eyes. Although she was aging, Queen Hecuba was an elegant woman draped in brightly coloured fabric which made her stand out in crowds. Her brown hair, now threaded with silver, was braided and covered by a sheer scarf which looked as though it was transparent and woven from dyed spider silk. She and Priam were seated side by side on twin thrones, although hers was slightly smaller than her husband's. The newcomers stood before the monarchs with their heads bowed, although Ragetti and Pintel kept peering around them, looking as if they had died and gone to heaven.

"Last but not least," said Priam when he saw Balian. He beckoned to the young man who stepped forward hesitantly to join his friends. "Hector has told us the entire story. We are forever indebted to you all. Tell me, how would you like to be rewarded?"

"With all due respect, your majesty," said Legolas on behalf of his companions "we ask for no reward for the welcome which we received is more than enough. Therefore, we beseech you only to tolerate our presence in this most beautiful and glorious city until such time as we can find our way back home."

"A gracious answer worthy of the most well-spoken of princes," said Priam with approval. "Very well; a feast shall be prepared in your honour tonight, and you will all tell us your stories then. But for now, you have all journeyed for long and you must rest. Send orders for rooms to be prepared."

As the foreigners were led away, Jack leant close to Legolas. "You could've asked for anythin'," he muttered to the elf.

"We're not here for their wealth," said the elf.

"That's all very well, high and mighty Legless, but I would never say no to a bit o' gold."

* * *

Calchas stared after the newcomers with such disdain that if looks could kill, the foreigners would have all been reduced to ashes long ago. They were the ones who had thwarted his plans. He had a bad feeling about them, especially the scarred one whom Hector held in such high esteem. That man was just like the Crown Prince in every way, except he seemed to have an extraordinary amount of luck, as if he had been blessed by one god or another. He had to go. They all had to go. 

The High Priest glanced at Priam, who was engaged in light-hearted conversation with Helen. Now was not the time to try and persuade the King that the foreigners would bring nothing but bad luck to Troy. Priam was too pleased with them for having saved his precious sons.

Paris was glad that his father seemed to like Helen. He knew how hard it was for her, being in a foreign country which did not exactly welcome her presence. Cassandra's accusations and prophecy of doom had frightened the former Spartan queen. He glanced around. Something was missing. It was awfully quiet, usually there would be children shouting and running around and pouncing on the adults...

"Where's Ganymede?" he said suddenly, causing Hector to look up. The older prince frowned and Priam stopped speaking. The King sighed.

"Come, Paris, Hector, sit down," he said. "You too, Helen. You're family now. While you were away in Sparta, something happened to your brother." Priam paused, then looked to Calchas. "Maybe you should explain, old friend."

"As my lord commands," said the High Priest. He cleared his throat and inflated his chest, bringing himself to his full height as if to assert his authority. "Prince Ganymede, as it seems, was walking along the beach by himself when Zeus, King of the gods, saw him. Moved by the prince's beauty, Divine Zeus came down to earth and swept him up to Mount Olympus to be the divine Cupbearer. Prince Ganymede has been deified."

"Deified? Ganymede?" said Hector. "You must be mistaken. It's not possible."

"My prince," said Calchas calmly "with the gods, everything is possible. Truly, do you doubt my word?"

"Have you any proof?" said Hector. "If he was walking alone when Zeus took him up to Olympus, how do you know that this was what happened?"

"Hector," said Priam. "You must trust the High Priest. He is a servant of the gods, and they gave him a vision."

Hector was still not convinced, but any further argument would mean blasphemy and he dared not make such a mistake. The High Priest was a powerful man who was not to be offended. Priam trusted him entirely.

The older prince glanced at Paris, who seemed to be just as suspicious but like Hector, he didn't dare to contradict Calchas. 'Apollo's horses,' thought Hector. 'Troy is ruled by a superstitious old fool.' And then he stopped. Was Calchas just a superstitious old fool or was a bit more complicated than that? He looked at the High Priest. Calchas' face betrayed nothing but his eyes... it was said that a man's eyes were windows into his soul. Hector met Calchas' gaze, and he fought back an involuntary shiver.

* * *

Balian's room opened out to a balcony which looked over a small courtyard guarded by golden statues of numerous deities. A large bronze tub with steam spilling out of it waited for him in the centre of the room, filling the air with the scent of water vapour and rose petals. Maids with oiled golden skin stood to one side. One held a set of clothing and the other a cloth for drying him after his bath. The others were approaching him to help him undress. 

As soon as their fingers touched the ties on his shirt, he took a step backwards and held up his hands. "I'll be fine on my own," he said. He could feel his face growing hot.

"We were commanded to wait on you, my lord," said the boldest of them. She sounded amused. The others giggled at this foreign man's shyness. He was not like the Trojan men, who seemed to think they were the gods' gift to women. They found his bashfulness refreshing and lovable.

Will's voice penetrated the wall from the room next door. "I am a married man," he said, almost indignantly. "This is most inappropriate." It seemed that the pirate was facing the same dilemma.

"Please," said Balian to the maids. "I can truly manage on my own...I'm not used to this."

"Most men are not shy about their bodies," said the boldest of the maids, stepping forward again to undo the ties on his shirt. Her deft fingers quickly untied the knots before he could further protest. Balian did not know what to make of Trojan women. They were so...forward. Even Sibylla had been more hesitant.

The other maids now slid the shirt from his body and then there was a gasp as they saw his bare torso. "You're scarred..." whispered one of them, tracing the marks on his back.

"Now you understand why I did not wish for you to see me thus," said Balian. That was one of the reasons. He had many more.

"Forgive us, my lord," said the maid who had first spoken. "We did not know." She nodded to her two companions who held the drying cloth and the clean clothes. They set the items on a couch and then started to make for the door, followed by the other maids. "If you need us, we will be outside."

At last, he was alone. Balian breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly stripped of the remainder of his clothes and stepped into the tub, where he proceeded to scrub the dried filth from his skin. The hot water loosened his tight muscles. Rose petals floated on the surface, giving the steam a delicate fragrance which reminded him of the Holy Land...and Sibylla.

He drove the morose thoughts from his head and cleared his mind, letting the heat and scent of the water sooth him. His eyes grew heavy and they slowly closed...

_He was alone in a little rowing boat, floating on dark water which resembled the black oil of the East. He was rowing towards a huge walled fortress. Fire stained the broiling clouds above the fortress red. There were terrible tortured shrieks coming from inside. The gates were guarded by demons with rough dark skin and glowing red eyes like smouldering coals. They had long iron fangs protruding from their sneering mouths. When he met their gaze, his heart almost stopped with fear. _

_The gates groaned as they were opened to reveal a place full of fiery pits and demons and the tormented souls of sinners. They clawed at blistered skin and charred flesh, trying to alleviate their agony. Many floundered in a river of molten rock, reaching out for help, but there was no one to help them. _

_And then he saw her, with purple ligature marks on her pale blistered neck. Her fingers were burnt black and her lips were cracked and bleeding. Tears flowed from her eyes and sizzled as they fell and were dried up by the fires of hell. Demons held her. Her voice was drowned out by the screams and cries of the other souls but he could see that she was repeating his name over and over again, calling to him for help. He tried to call back, to tell her that he was coming, but all that came out was a croak. Jocelyn..._

_He increased his speed. He was almost through the gates. They were beginning to close. Balian put all the strength that he had into powering those oars but it was no use. The gates slammed close in his face, barring him from Jocelyn. He pounded on them, bruising his hands and causing them to bleed from the impact, but to no avail. The sound of his fists on the gates echoed..._

Balian's eyes flew open. His breathing was harsh and quick and his heart knocked against his ribs. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Someone was knocking on his door and the water was tepid. He stepped out of the tub and quickly wrapped the drying cloth about his dripping body to hide his nakedness. His wet skin gleamed in the dying rays of the sun.

The door opened and Legolas peeked in. "Are you alright?" he said. "I heard you moaning a couple of yards away. What's taking you so long?"

"I'm fine," said Balian, rubbing his face with his hand. "I fell asleep in the water."

"You'd better hurry," said Legolas. "Everyone is waiting for you." Balian nodded.

"Can you apologize for me, and tell them that I'm coming?" he asked.

"I already have."

The door closed. Balian rubbed himself dry and then attempted to put on the strange Trojan garments. The underclothes were simple enough. There was only a loincloth. And then came the sleeveless robe which looked like a dress. It was a deep blue, the colour of the sky at dusk when the sun's light was almost completely gone. He slipped it over his head and adjusted the sash which went around his waist. The sandals were easy enough to deal with, once he untangled the straps. That done, he rushed out and hurried to the main hall, where he found everyone seated and listening intently to a very animated Jack Sparrow who seemed to be re-enacting something with exaggerated movements. There was no empty space save for one, in a place of honour only three seats away from the King.

Paris saw him, looked at the empty seat and nodded. Balian, not feeling very comfortable with this arrangement, took his place. He was grateful that it was between Helen and Legolas. At least he was not amongst strangers. He found himself opposite Calchas. Of all the people present at this feast, only Calchas was not listening to Jack. The High Priest was staring intently at Balian with his hard piercing eyes as if he was trying to delve into the young man's soul. Although he was not overtly bad, as Guy de Lusignan and Reynald de Chatîllon had been, Balian felt that Calchas was more dangerous than the two put together. He had a sort of cruel cunning about him.

'What are you thinking?' he wondered as he stared back at the older man. Calchas' eyes narrowed slightly and then he looked away, leaving Balian's question unanswered.

The food was brought forward. There were entire roasted pigs and platters of succulent birds stuffed with herbs and grains. The bread was piled up like mountain ranges and wine flowed like rivers. No one remained in their places. Some men, who had drunk too much, started an unsteady dance. Jack was in the middle of it and trying to teach the Trojans a tuneless song.

Hector made his way through the throngs of people towards Balian and pulled him aside. The staring match between the blacksmith and the High Priest had not gone unnoticed by the prince. "Calchas is an important man," said Hector. "You must be careful not to offend him, and there's something about him that makes me...uneasy." The prince told Balian about the Ganymede issue. "I don't know what to think..." said Hector once he'd finished. "The High Priest is the servant of the gods, but it just seems..." The prince was at a loss for words.

"I don't believe a single word of it," said Balian. "I don't know what happened to your brother, but whatever it is, Calchas will have something to do with it."

* * *

The next day was filled with trepidation for the impending Greek attack. Balian was outside on the beach, helping the men with the fortifications. Legolas was with the archers and the pirates were dispersed everywhere. Stakes were being driven into the sand, pointing seaward. Balian was examining the materials available and wondering if he could make siege engines. He decided it was worth a try although one very important thing was missing; iron. 

It was the seventh day after Hector and Paris had returned to Troy when ships were sighted on the horizon. They came like a swarm of pests. Each standard was a challenge to Troy's sovereignty. At the very front of the fleet was a ship with a single black sail. A man with a mane of tousled hair the colour of ripe wheat was at the prow.

The ship cut through the water like a knife, heading straight for Troy. The man with the mane was addressing his men, boosting their morale. And then the ship ploughed into the sand. The men leapt out with piercing battle cries. The Trojans showered them with arrows. A few were taken down but the golden warrior charged on. The men formed a barricade of shields, stopping the arrows from getting through. Like a tortoise, they steadily advanced, their shields impenetrable by Trojan arrows.

Balian unsheathed his sword just as the Greek warriors separated. He rushed forward to meet them and found himself using all his skill to avoid being run through. The Sword of Ibelin was superior in quality, but it was also a lot heavier than the Greek swords. Behind him, he heard Barbossa cursing the enemy. His friends had come to help.

The golden Greek warrior fought as if he was a god of war. He leapt and parried as if he was dancing and not killing. He carried his shield on his back to protect himself. Trojan soldiers were being cut down as if they were heads of wheat being harvested by a farmer.

Without thinking, Balian rushed forward to stop the warrior in his rampage of death. Their blades met. The force made the bones in his arm ring. Unfazed, the warrior swung around and swiped at the blacksmith's legs. Balian leapt out of the way just in time. He lunged at the warrior who dodged and tried to trap Balian's arm with his shield. The blacksmith just managed to outmanoeuvre the Greek.

The warrior seemed to be tireless, and Balian could feel his strength waning from trying to keep up with his every move. He stumbled and the warrior moved in for the killing blow when a blur of gold, green and silver moved between them and engaged the warrior in battle.

* * *

**A/N: **Yay! First encounter with Achilles and his Myrmidon! And it's not over with our friend Calchas yet. More action next chapter. Please leave a review! They inspire me. 


	7. Losses and Loot

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them.

**Chapter 7: Losses and Loot**

Achilles lifted his shield just in time to block a downward slash from one of his opponent's flashing silver knives. Never in his life had he seen anyone move so quickly, and with so much grace and strength. He caught sight of his opponent's face and was rather taken aback by what he saw. No mortal could have such a face. It spoke of eternal sculpted youth and the piercing blue eyes carried thousands of years of knowledge and wisdom within them. Achilles felt as if he had looked into the eyes of a god.

Legolas was impressed by the man's speed. Humans were hardly ever this fast. The warrior's stamina was great, and the elf knew that they could both continue to fight for many hours without ever deciding who was winning or losing. From the corner of his eye he saw Balian surrounded by other 'Greeks'. More of the enemy soldiers were landing, including a troll of a man who wielded a war hammer made from a rock tied to a long wooden shaft. He whirled it around in wild circles, almost smashing Will's head. The pirate nimbly ducked and lunged forward with his light sword, scoring a light cut on the giant's leg. Like an annoying stinging insect, Will immediately darted out of reach, only to resume his attack from another angle. The giant chased after him, but Will, being lighter on his feet, always managed to keep ahead.

Ragetti and Pintel were not enjoying this. No one had said anything about fighting when they had joined the two princes. And they weren't undead anymore. The two pirates looked at each other. Understanding passed between them. They turned tail and fled towards the temple, with a horde of angry Greek warriors in pursuit. Jack saw them running as he parried a Greek sword, and then his eyes fell on the golden statue kneeling on the steps of the temple. They were losing ground, and it was only a matter of time before the Greeks took the beach and the temple with it. Always an opportunist, Jack abandoned the battle and ran for the temple. Maybe he would be able to save some of the lovely shiny things he was bound to find in there before the Greeks took the rest.

Eudoras watched the fight between Achilles and the golden stranger with much unease. The Myrmidon warrior was worried for his lord. Both of the men were well-matched. When two lions fought, one of them always got hurt. He did not want Achilles to be that unlucky lion. Eudoras rushed forwards with a wild cry, intending to strike the golden one in the back. The golden warrior turned around and blocked the downward cut with both his knives, giving Achilles some reprieve. Achilles, knowing that it would take too long to win against the stranger, if he could win at all, cut his way through to the temple instead. That was the greater prize. No one would remember him for defeating a nameless golden warrior with the face of a god, but they would all remember him if he took the temple and beach of Troy with only fifty men. Trojan soldiers did not prove to be much of an obstacle. Achilles paid no heed to the blood which sprayed onto him as he ended lives with careless strokes of his sword. He raced up the steps, past the golden statue of Apollo aiming an arrow into the sky.

Having fended off Eudoras, the golden warrior now chased after Achilles. He ran as if he wore Hermes' winged sandals. His feet hardly made an imprint in the yellow sand. The other man, the one with the scarred face, was on his heels, covered in sand and blood, with stubborn determination emanating from his eyes.

With a flying leap which defied all logic and reason, the golden warrior soared overhead as if he had suddenly sprouted invisible wings. He landed amongst a group of Myrmidon warriors who were already slaying the Trojans who guarded the temple. Somehow, the golden warrior had managed to sheath his knives and was now using his bow and arrows to great effect.

Scarface had reached Achilles. Although he was not as skilled as the lord of the Myrmidon, Achilles had to commend him for his courage and perseverance. They locked blades with each other, the way contending bulls lock horns, pushing backwards and forwards. Scarface tried to get under Achilles' guard, but the Greek leapt out of the way. They circled each other, their muscles as tense as those of great predatory cats getting ready to pounce on their prey. "What's your name, warrior?" said Achilles. There was no point in killing a worthy opponent without knowing who he was.

"Balian," replied the scarred warrior.

"You're either very brave, or very foolish, to fight me after you have already lost, Balian."

"I've been called foolhardy by some," said Balian in a low growl. He showed no signs of being daunted. Achilles smiled at that. He could see more of his men coming. Maybe it would be more beneficial to capture this Balian alive. If anything, he would certainly make for an interesting prisoner.

Balian watched this lion of a man warily. He knew that the Greek could strike without warning. The blacksmith had seen how quick and deadly he could be. The wild cries of more battle-maddened Greeks were coming from behind him. He knew he would be outmanned soon.

Achilles was about to launch an attack when something made him stop. The golden warrior seemed to have dealt with all the Myrmidon at the top of the steps. He sent a shield sliding down the steps and then leapt onto it, landing on his feet. All the while, as he descended the stone steps with a sliding shield, he released arrows in quick succession, with deadly accuracy. In all his years of experience in battle, Achilles had never seen such a skilled warrior. Many Greeks fell to his missiles and Achilles himself only just managed to avoid being shot.

The golden warrior jumped just as he was descending the last few steps. The shield flew off the ground and struck someone in the neck, breaking the spine and killing him instantly. Without losing any momentum, the golden warrior whipped out his knives again. "Come on, Balian!" he said. "You go up there!"

Already, more Greek warriors had reached the temple. Legolas seemed to be managing fine all by himself. Balian charged up the steps to the temple's entrance, feinting left and right to avoid Greek arrows. Pain shot through his arm as an arrow managed to embed itself in his muscle. Crying out in frustration more than in pain, he tried to pull out the arrow, only to have the shaft come away without the arrowhead. Cursing, he ignored his wound and took his place before the temple, cutting down any Greek soldier that tried to get in.

Will could see that everyone was heading for the temple. There were enemy soldiers everywhere. His main concern was the giant who was chasing him, roaring and swinging his hammer of stone. Barbossa saw the younger man's plight. Snatching the monkey from his shoulder, the old pirate hurled his pet at the giant.

Ajax didn't know what had hit him. All he knew was that there was something trying to tear off his face while shrieking shrilly into his ear and deafening him. He abandoned the all thoughts of the young man with the strange sword and pulled the irritating creature off his face. He stared at the monkey in his hand. However, before he could act, the animal bit him and caused him to let go with a disgusted cry.

Jack the monkey scampered back to Barbossa, chattering at his master with disapproval. The pirate ignored him. Will was beckoning to him. "To the temple, Barbossa!" said the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_.

The two of them hurried to join the rest of their comrades who were slowly but surely being overwhelmed by the ever increasing number of enemies.

* * *

Hector, on horseback, with the Apollonian Guard behind him, saw that the Greeks were already swarming up the steps of the temple. Aeneas rode up beside him. "They're going to take the sacred statue," he said. "Without it, we will be lost." 

"I'm more worried about Briseis," said Hector. "She's in the temple. But you're right. We can't let the Greeks take the Talisman of Troy." He turned to the Apollonian Guard and signalled for them to charge. The prince dug his heels into his horse's flanks. The animal surged forwards. They raced for the temple, past the corpses of the sons of Troy littering the beach, their blood staining the sand of their motherland.

* * *

Ragetti and Pintel could not believe what they were seeing. All the sounds of dying men faded from their minds. In the antechamber of the temple, there were only the two of them, and the gold. There was even more treasure here than on Isla de Meurta. "How much do you think is here?" asked Pintel. His eyes were as large and round as the two golden bowls he was holding. Numbers confused him and in this ecstatic state, he could not even get his mind around the simplest of sums. 

"It don't seem right to be stealin' from a god," said Ragetti. His one eye was staring at a statue of Apollo with his bow hanging by his side and laurel leaves in his hair.

"It ain't stealin'," said Pintel, starting to pick up trinkets which were light enough to be carried. "It's salvagin'. Them Greeks are gonna get it all anyway."

"Ah, gentlemen," said Jack as he sauntered in with more urgency than his usual casual movements. "I see you have found the shiny things. Well, hurry, chop chop. We ain't got all day. The enemy's comin', savvy?"

Ragetti found a sack and the three pirates threw whatever they could get their hands on into the sack. Jack put a crown on his head and a heavy golden chain around his neck. Rings were added to his already impressive collection. There was so much; enough for an entire shipload of rum. The roar of the battle could be heard now. They hurried towards the exit.

* * *

"Hector's coming, with the cavalry!" shouted Legolas as he cut down two Greeks simultaneously. 

"Thank God!" said Balian. His words were drowned out by the din of the fighting. The man with the sandy mane was nowhere to be seen. Presumably he had ventured deeper into the temple. More Greeks were pouring in, swarming the defenders like stinging fire ants attracted by a carcass. The closed confines of the temple limited his movement. It was like a maze in there; dark, with so many twists and turns that anyone would get lost.

"When are they arrivin'?" demanded Barbossa. "We can do with a bit o' help here."

"Where's Jack?" asked Will as he ran a Greek through.

* * *

As Hector, Aeneas and the Apollonians neared, they feared that they might have been too late. The Greeks seemed to have taken the temple already and were dealing with the last of the defenders. One warrior, with hair the colour of wet sand, saw the approaching Trojan force. He hefted a spear and with practised ease, threw it. The spear pierced the throat of the man on Hector's left. The Trojan Prince looked back at the fallen man in shock, and then at the Greek. How could anyone throw a spear like that? Hector lifted his own spear and returned the Greek's favour, but the warrior simply sidestepped and let the spear pass. Nonchalantly, he stepped inside the temple and was lost in the gloom and the chaos. The Trojans leapt off their horses and charged up the steps on foot. Mounted soldiers were no use in the cramped spaces of the temple. They found their way blocked by fierce and determined Greek warriors. Hector slammed his shield into one of them while using his sword to fend off another. He managed to force his way past the threshold, with Aeneas right behind him. 

It was a chaotic scene inside. Men were packed in like slaves in a ship, all jostling with each other and trying to fight. In the gloom, they looked like a mass of mindless creatures, devouring each other.

Aeneas saw it first. The Talisman of Troy. It was a sacred statue made out of cedar wood which stood at the height of three hand-spans. One of the ancient founders of Troy, whose name had been lost in the sea of time and memory, had carved it. It stood in a niche, watching the violence unfold before it with passive blind eyes. Balian was fighting to the left of the niche. A Greek, realizing the importance of the statue, was reaching for it.

"Balian!" shouted Hector's cousin. "The statue! Don't let them get the statue!"

Balian turned, and saw the carving. Without thinking about why the statue was important, he knocked aside the Greek who was trying to take it and snatched it up with a bloody, gore-covered hand.

He saw movement behind him, and made to cut down whatever it was, only to find that it was Jack Sparrow.

"Whoops," said the pirate with mild surprise. He wore a crown of laurel leaves on top of his triangular hat and had draped himself with gold. "Must've taken a wrong turn. I do apologize for this interruption, gentlemen." Two more pirates stepped out, carrying a sack of treasure.

"Where's the door?" said Pintel.

"Now which door would that be?" said Jack.

"The one we came in through," said Ragetti.

"Now is not the time to be joking," said Barbossa. "We have to get out of here, or we'll be trapped."

The small group charged out, with Legolas in the lead, followed by Hector and Aeneas. The rest of the Apollonian Guard had been slaughtered. Balian was at the back, still clutching the wooden statue. More Greek ships had landed. They mounted the horses and rode back to the city. Hector glanced back at the temple, just in time to see the Greek with the golden mane decapitate the statue of Apollo on the steps of the temple.

'Why doesn't Apollo strike him down?' thought Hector.

The bedraggled company rode back through the gates of Troy, battered but alive. Servants helped them off the horses. Priam was there to greet them. He embraced Hector. "I've failed you, Father," said the Trojan Prince. "I've failed Troy."

"All is as the gods will it," said Priam. "Come, you must be exhausted."

Legolas glanced at Balian. The blacksmith had a wound to his upper left arm, and he was clutching a wooden statue. "Balian, what's that?" he asked.

Balian glanced down at the statue. "I don't know," he said. "Aeneas said to take it."

"The Talisman of Troy," breathed Aeneas. "Thanks be to the gods, you managed to take it!"

"Who managed to take it?" said Hector. He looked at the blacksmith. "Zeus' thunder, this has to be the one fortunate thing in this day of misfortunes. Balian, once again, we are in your debt."

Jack sneaked away while they were all busy thanking Balian for rescuing what was a piece of firewood as far as the pirate was concerned. Although he had to say it looked as if it was worth more than his jar of dirt. Pintel and Ragetti followed him. They were all eager to see how much plunder they had managed to obtain.

Balian was quite perplexed. What was so special about a small wooden statue which wasn't even very beautiful? All he could think about was how tired he was and how his arm hurt. He wanted to sleep. Legolas saw his distant expression. "My lords, he is hurt, and he needs to rest," said the elf.

"Of course," said Priam. "How can I have forgotten?"

* * *

Cassandra had heard about the battle. She had known it would've ended like this. She stepped out into the corridor. There were voices. The princess could make out her brother's voice. The shadows approached her. She could see them more clearly now. Hector was with Balian. The latter's arm was bleeding and he looked tired. As she watched him, an image flashed before her eyes. It only lasted for a moment, but it was long enough for her to decipher it. She saw Balian on his knees. His hands were bound. And then, a flash of red. Her breathing sped up. Was this a message from the gods, warning her about something? She quickened her pace. She wanted to talk to Balian. She had so many things to ask him, and to tell him. Was he badly hurt? In her haste, she bumped into Barbossa. "How now, Princess?" said the old sailor. "Why the hurry?" 

"I have to see Balian," she said, trying to get past him. "I have something to tell him. It's important!"

"You can't see him right now," said Barbossa. "He's not a sight for young ladies at the moment. You can tell me, and I'll pass it on to him."

Cassandra shook her head. Barbossa would think she was mad, as everyone seemed to do. He would not pass on her message, and Balian would never hear of the warning. "You won't believe me," she said. "You'll just think I'm mad."

"Princess, I've been in Jack Sparrow's crew. I think I know what's mad and what is not. Now tell me, what is so important that you must barge into a strange man's room to speak to him."

With no other choice before her except to wait, Cassandra took a breath. "I had a vision, just then," she told Barbossa. "I saw...saw danger for him." She expected to be laughed at or mocked as she usually was, but Barbossa just looked thoughtful.

"You're a seer, ain't ya?" said the old sailor. There was no jest. Barbossa was serious. "D'you know what sort of danger's in store for our dear blacksmith?"

"I only know there's danger," said Cassandra. "Visions are never that specific. I don't want him to get hurt."

The look in Cassandra's eyes made Barbossa want to take a step backwards. He'd seen such a look before, only it had been in Elizabeth's eyes. She had been talking about Will. Such a look foretold a boring monologue about the qualities of a certain man. However, the fact that Cassandra would feel this way about Balian surprised him. She'd only known the man for a few days, and he was far too old for her. The pirate doubted that Balian even knew about this.

"Don't worry, Princess," said Barbossa. "I'll tell him. And he's tough. He'll survive."

* * *

**A/N: **Now things start getting a bit more complicated. Trouble escalates for Balian. It is foreshadowed, and Classicists should have seen it. It's also the first time I've done such a long fight sequence. I don't know what came over me. 


	8. From Bad to Worse

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 8: From Bad to Worse**

Will had discovered that whilst Balian was a patient man in almost every aspect, it did not mean that he was a good patient. The older man was as taut as a strung bow and more restless as the healer prodded his arm and clucked his tongue in concern. "I tell you," said Balian. "I'm fine. There is no need to make such a fuss over nothing."

"You have an arrowhead stuck in your arm," said Legolas, silencing the man with a glare. "If it is not removed, it will fester."

"Well, remove it then," said Balian.

"I can't," said the healer, who looked as if he was half Balian's age. "The arrow's been broken, and I can't get a hold of it."

Legolas sighed and began to examine the wound himself. Although he was no expert, even he could tell it wouldn't be very difficult to remove the remains of the arrow. Part of the shaft still protruded, even if there was not enough for him to get a grip on. All that needed to be done was to make the right incision which would free the arrow. The elf held out his hand for the healer's small bronze knife, usually used for lancing infections. The healer looked confused. "Give me the knife," said the elf. The healer quickly obeyed. Legolas turned to Balian. "Hold still," he said. With more skill than the healer had shown, he inserted the small thin blade into the wound. Balian winced and clenched his teeth together.

After what seemed like a painfully long time, the arrowhead was free. Legolas bathed Balian's wound with warm water and bound it. "Try not to aggravate it," said the elf. "And I think you should rest. You've lost quite some blood and the fighting was hard."

"Yes, alright, Nurse Legolas," said Balian. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Legolas stiffened.

"What did you call me?" he said in a dangerous tone.

"He called you 'Nurse Legolas'," said Jack, who seemed very interested in seeing what would happen next. "Nanny Balian and Nurse Legless...how fitting."

The 'nanny' and the 'nurse' in question glared at the pirate and were about to tackle him to the ground when Barbossa came in.

"I apologize if I be interruptin' anythin'," he drawled sarcastically, not sounding very apologetic at all. "There be some matters of urgency which need to be addressed."

"What matters of emergency?" asked Jack in a hurry, trying to divert the blacksmith and the elf's attention.

"It concerns a warning, from a seer," said the old pirate. He took a few steps towards where Balian was sitting with his shirt half on. The younger man's body gleamed with sweat.

"There be danger ahead," said Barbossa, looking down at the blacksmith.

"That goes without saying," said Legolas. "We're at war."

"What sort of danger?" asked Balian.

"Of that I am not certain," said Barbossa. "I am only passing on a message from a certain lady. She told me to tell you to be wary at all times."

"I will," said Balian, putting his arm through a shirtsleeve and doing up the ties on the front. "Please thank her for her warning on my behalf." He turned to his friends. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to see to the defences."

"I thought I told you to rest," said Legolas.

"Legolas, I can't rest when there is work which needs to be done. We have no more time to lose. What if the Greeks attack and besiege us? We'll be defenceless."

"Uh, I've just been on the wall to survey the enemy," said Will. "I didn't see any ladders or catapults or other siege weaponry with the Greeks."

"How can you tell?" asked Legolas. "I do not mean to offend you but you are human and I know human eyesight is not the best."

"I had my telescope."

"Tele...what?" said Balian.

"Something which allows me to see further than I usually do," said Will.

"You must show me that sometime," said Legolas.

"How do the Greeks intend to take Troy without siege weaponry?" said Balian, looking perplexed. Will shrugged.

"Seeing as they have no siege weaponry," said Legolas "ours can wait a bit." He stared pointedly at the blacksmith. When Balian did not seemed to be affected, he bodily dragged Balian over to the bed by his good arm. "You rest and don't come out until you have done so."

"Well, Nurse Legless," said Jack. "I think we should leave him to it."

Legolas whipped around, looking murderous. Jack turned and fled for his life, with a furious elf on his heels. Barbossa watched with open amusement. Will shook his head. "Will Jack never learn?" he said to Barbossa as the two of them left Balian's room and closed the door firmly behind them.

"He's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow," said Barbossa. "Of course he never learns."

* * *

Achilles drained his cup and flung the vessel aside into a dark sandy corner of his tent, wishing that he could throw it at Agamemnon's head instead. He hated that arrogant man, and until he gave him that girl Briseis back, he was not going to fight. Let Agamemnon deal with the golden warrior who fought as one gifted by Ares. Let Agamemnon fight Hector and the stubborn Balian. And that monkey that Ajax was talking about. The lord of the Myrmidon would rejoice if the High King of Greece was defeated by that motley and efficient group of fighters. 

The walls of his tent muffled the men's voices. It was dark inside. That suited Achilles. He had no desire to see the sun, or anything else for that matter, maybe with the exception of Briseis. Let Agamemnon try to take Troy without Achilles. The King will find out soon enough that it was impossible. They needed him. The Greeks needed Achilles.

* * *

The main hall was noisy with the voices of men raised in debate. Some of the newcomers had been invited to this meeting of noblemen to discuss the matter of war. Everyone, except for Ragetti and Pintel, was present. Legolas wore an impassive expression on his face, as if he was listening to squabbling chickens fighting over corn. Beside him, Balian, with his arm bandaged, was frowning. 

Paris was impressed by their stoic manner. He wished he was more like them and Hector. No one took him seriously. He could still hear the crackling of flames as they consumed the pyres upon which the fallen soldiers lay. They had died for him. Each death pierced his heart like an arrow. The screams and wails of their families would haunt him forever. He could not bear to meet the gazes of his people, knowing that his little affair had been the cause of their sorrows. He couldn't let anyone else die for him. This was a dispute between him and Menelaus. It was his problem. Resolutely, he stood up. Naive determination radiated from his face. "There won't be a war," he said. "This is a matter between two men. I don't want another Trojan to die because of me."

This declaration caused a number of raised eyebrows and hushed whispers. Hector felt both pride and despair at once. He was proud of Paris for finally shouldering his burdens, and he despaired because it was common knowledge that Paris was no fighter. Menelaus was a great warrior. The younger Trojan prince would not stand a chance.

"Paris," chided Priam, was alarmed by his son's speech.

"I will fight Menelaus," said Paris. "The winner will take Helen home, and the loser will burn."

Jack leaned over to whisper to Will. "I guess we'll have to start building a pyre then, eh?" he said.

Will frowned. "Jack, that's not a good thing to say," he said.

"Well, I'm tellin' the truth," said Jack.

"For once," muttered Will.

* * *

In the darkness of his chamber, Calchas paced. His mind was working furiously. Paris' fight with Menelaus meant that Hector would go out of the city as well. This would make him more vulnerable. He would not be behind high walls. But how to kill a warrior like Hector? The High Priest frowned and sighed. The opportune moment had been lost once Hector had returned to Troy. Everyone loved the Crown Prince. The only time where it was possible to kill him was during the chaos of battle. 

Calchas stopped in his pacing. He needed to send a message to Agamemnon, teaching him how to flank Hector and thus attack the prince from all directions. Surrounded and cut off from all reinforcements, Hector would surely perish, unless his new friends managed to interfere yet again. The High Priest quickly wrote the letter and then summoned his most trusted servant to bear the message to the High King of Greece.

* * *

Aeneas felt uneasy. He glanced at Hector, who was walking beside him through the gardens. The Crown Prince was deep in thought. "Do you really think that Paris can win this fight?" asked Aeneas. 

"I can only hope and pray," said Hector. They were nearing a courtyard, and they could hear the sound of sword against sword.

"Take a high guard. A high guard!" Balian was saying to Paris from the side of the courtyard. It seemed that Legolas had forbidden him to physically show Paris how it was done.

"Rest on the balls of your feet, not your heels!" said Legolas.

"Mind your foot-work," called Jack, sipping from a golden goblet of wine.

Paris and Will stood in the centre of the courtyard. Both had bronze swords in their hands. The others were scattered around the sides, giving advice or encouragement. Balian, Legolas and the pirates seemed to have taken upon themselves to prepare Paris for his impending fight.

Helen watched from the corner. It was her fault that Troy was suffering. With each move, she became more convinced that it would be Paris who would burn. She couldn't let that happen. She didn't want him to die for her. She wrapped her arms around herself and bit her lip. She knew what to do, but she was afraid to do it.

"Ready?" said Will. Paris nodded. Will stepped forward and lunged, rather slowly. Paris managed to block the blow but almost lost his balance. As they parried, Will called out numbers. Jack shook his head.

"He's hopeless," said the pirate. There was no doubt as to who he was referring to.

"There is always hope," retorted Legolas, who still had not forgiven Jack for calling him 'nurse' one time too many.

"Bend your knees!" said Balian, taking note of Paris' awkward and stiff movements. "Sword straighter!" Paris tried to do both at once and Will immediately caught him off guard. The captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ tripped up the prince and sent him sprawling. Paris clambered to his feet again and charged at Will, who caught Paris' blade with the guard of his sword and then swung his own blade to Paris' neck, stopping just before the sharp edge bit into flesh.

"The blade isn't the only part of a sword," said Legolas.

"Won't it be easier if we just give him a pistol and teach him how to use it?" asked Jack.

"Maybe," said Will, retreating to the sidelines as Barbossa stepped into the courtyard. "But I don't think the Trojans and the Greeks know about duelling with pistols."

* * *

The day of the fight dawned. Paris was getting more and more nervous. He didn't really want to die. Practising with the newcomers had just confirmed his suspicions that he was no warrior. Jack could beat him while drunk, although the pirates had taught him some useful ways to cheat when Hector and Balian had not been looking. Legolas just turned a blind eye to the dishonourable behaviour. 

The army was gathered outside the gates. They parted ranks to let Hector and Paris through. Aeneas and the newcomers followed behind them. Hector was of the opinion that they would need experienced fighters such as them.

Paris turned around to look back up at the city. He knew his father and Helen were watching, as well as all the noblemen. "Are you sure you want to do this?" asked Hector.

"I started this war," said Paris bravely, not feeling very brave at all.

"Wars are not ended by duels," said Aeneas. "Are you certain?"

"Yes," said Paris. It was too late to back down now. They would call him a coward.

The Greek army appeared over the horizon, like a swarm of pestilence. Their spears glinted in the morning sun, creating a rippling sea of shining metal. The leaders rode in chariots. Balian presumed that it was Agamemnon in the middle. With him were the giant Ajax, a man who looked suspiciously like Boromir, and another man who looked like Reynald de Chatîllon. Balian tensed at the sight of him. Achilles, the warrior with the golden mane, was nowhere to be seen.

Agamemnon halted his army and then indicated to his charioteer to drive up to the Trojan Princes. The Trojan delegation rode out to meet them.

"I see you're not hiding behind your high walls today," said Agamemnon nonchalantly. "Very valiant of you; ill-advised, but valiant."

"What do you want here in Troy?" said Hector.

"You can stop this war, young prince," continued Agamemnon as if Hector had not spoken at all. "First, you must give Helen back to my brother." He indicated the false Reynald. "And, Troy must submit to my command. Look at my army. You cannot win this war."

"You think you can put fear into my heart?" asked Hector. "Do you know what I see? I see fifty thousand men brought here to fight for one man's greed."

"Careful, boy," said Agamemnon. "My mercy has limits."

"And I've seen the limits of your mercy," said Hector. "I tell you now that no son of Troy shall ever submit to a foreign ruler!"

"Then every son of Troy shall die!"

Hector's eyes blazed with defiance. Before he could say anything else, Paris spoke.

"I have a proposal to make, as a prince of Troy."

"What prince?" demanded Menelaus. "What son of a king would greet a man in friendship, eat his food, drink his wine and then steal his wife in the middle of the night?"

"The sun was shining when your wife left you," retorted Paris disdainfully.

"She's up there watching, isn't she?" said Menelaus. "Good. I want her to see you die."

Things were getting tense. Both men were getting ready to fight. Menelaus' hand had already strayed to the hilt of his sword. And then Jack pranced up and put himself between them. Hector was too shocked to react. Behind the prince, Will was cringing and Balian looked as if he was choking on something. Legolas pressed his lips tightly together. Barbossa stroked his monkey, seemingly calm. 'How much worse can this get?' wondered Hector to himself.

"If I may have a word, gentlemen," said Jack. The Greek delegation looked as him as if he was one of Dionysus' satyrs. The pirate looked as solemn as a minister who was about to give a sermon. He turned to Menelaus. "First, let us examine why your wife left you." He smiled brilliantly, revealing a few gold teeth. "Obviously you couldn't satisfy her." He spoke as if he was teaching a very small child. Then the pirate frowned and looked Menelaus up and down. He gazed at the Spartan king.

"You're not a eunuch, are you?" asked Jack with a grimace.

Hector's jaw dropped. Things were about to get much worse than he had thought possible.

Menelaus roared in anger. Paris was forgotten. He lunged at the man with kohl-lined eyes and a braided beard.

* * *

**A/N: **Uh oh. Nasty stuff is about to happen. Please review. This chapter was a bit late in coming because last night I had computer problems, again. 


	9. The Gun

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Jack, Will, Hector, Paris...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 9: The Gun**

Jack fumbled for his pistol as the angry Spartan King charged at him, only to find that his favourite weapon had disappeared. "Bugger," he muttered, instinctively ducking, but he was not fast enough. Menelaus managed to snatch his hat. "Oi!" said Jack. "No one touches my hat!"

Will could see that if nothing was done and soon, Jack would be torn to pieces by the furious king. He whipped out his sword and pointed it at Menelaus. "I can't let you do that," he said, at the same time wondering why he was defending the pirate who had tried to sell his soul to Davy Jones.

"I knew you'd warm up to me," said Jack, tearing the hat out of Menelaus' hand and scrambling away. Menelaus turned on Will and pulled out his sword. They were about to do combat there and then when Agamemnon decided that this ridiculous business had gone on for long enough. Who were these men? The focus was shifting to them. Soon, his combined army would be forgetting why they were in Troy in the first place. The High King of Mycenae caught Menelaus' arm to restrain him.

"Do not ruin my plans," he hissed at his younger brother.

"He insulted me!" growled the King of Sparta, pointing his sword at Jack, who grinned cheekily.

"We're not here for your honour," said Agamemnon. "We're here for Troy. If you fight that man, our purpose will be forgotten! Even if you must fight, then you must fight the real culprit, not some nameless wretch from some barbaric land."

Menelaus gave Jack and final glare, and then turned back to Paris. "I accept your offer, _Prince_, and tonight, I'll drink to your bones," he said.

Paris pressed his lips together and said nothing. He was getting more and more nervous and he was afraid that he would stammer if he tried to retort. The two parties walked away to prepare for the confrontation. A Trojan soldier was waiting with a shield and a helmet for Paris.

"What were you thinking, saying such things?" Will demanded of Jack.

"What?" said Jack. "It was a totally reasonable question. Why else would his wife leave him for _that _whelp?" The pirate jerked his head in Paris' direction.

"You're mad, Jack Sparrow," said Will.

"_Captain. Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

They were all mad, as far as Legolas was concerned, although Jack was madder than most. He left them to their bickering and went to join Balian, who was looking worried for Paris. They all knew that the younger Trojan prince could not win; especially not now when Jack has enraged Menelaus.

Balian paid the pirates no attention. His focus was on the Trojan princes, particularly Paris. The younger man was putting on his bronze helmet.

Paris hands were shaking ever so slightly although he was trying to control himself. It was as if all his bones and tendons had gone soft and could not support him adequately. His knees felt as if they wanted to collapse. Gods above, he was not ready. The hilt of the sword felt awkward in his hands and the shield was an unnatural weight which threatened to overbalance him. On the Greek side, Menelaus looked murderous. Jack's intervention had not helped at all. The Spartan king gave a few experimental strokes with his sword. 'For Helen,' Paris repeated to himself over and over again inside his head. 'For Helen.' She was up there on the wall, watching him, as was everyone else. He swallowed, trying not to let his fear show. "Hector," he said. "If I fall, tell Helen...tell her I..."

Hector nodded. "I know," he said, attempting to reassure his younger brother and not succeeding. He wished he could protect him, but this was one battle which Paris had to fight for himself.

"Don't let Menelaus hurt her," said Paris. His breathing quickened. He swallowed again and tried to work some moisture into his suddenly dry mouth. His tongue felt thick and cumbersome and his throat threatened to close up from terror. "If he..."

Hector gripped his shoulders, stopping him in his blathering. "You focus on your sword and his sword and nothing else," said the older prince. Paris nodded. He turned to meet Menelaus in combat, his confidence diminishing with each step he took.

'It is your duty,' he told himself. 'You started this war, now you can end it.' He passed by Balian and glanced at the older man.

"God be with you, Paris," said Balian, dipping his head slightly. Paris met Legolas' gaze. The golden being smiled a little, trying to encourage him.

"Remember what you've learned," he said. Paris doubted he meant the honourable moves which Balian and Hector had taught him.

Jack winked at him. "Try not to do anything stupid," the pirate advised.

Paris' walk was a sombre as a funeral procession. His heart beat like a war drum inside his chest. The helmet impeded his vision. He could only see directly in front of him. What had Balian said about helmets? Didn't he always take them off? The prince held his sword out before him unsteadily. His arm felt weak. He was weak, not like Hector and Aeneas and Balian and Legolas and all the rest of them.

Sand leaked into his sandals. Each step brought him closer to his doom. And then he and Menelaus were within striking distance. Paris didn't know what to do. The Spartan King terrified him. The large man struck. Paris forgot everything he had learned while practising with the others and he immediately ducked and raised his shield to block his opponent's sword.

Balian winced as the force of Menelaus' blows drove Paris backwards. 'Fight,' he thought. 'Evade his blows.' The Spartan King shoved Paris to the ground with very little effort, sending his helmet flying from his head and rolling uselessly to one side.

"I knew we should've given him a pistol," said Jack to no one in particular.

"Get up," whispered Hector. He clenched his fists, holding back the urge to run to his brother's aid. He prayed to every god he could think of, begging them to spare his brother's life.

* * *

Achilles finally gave into his urge and went to observe the battle from the top of a high dune, where the rest of his men were gathered. He could not sulk in the dark of his tent when there was a battle being fought. His men were restless. He could feel their frustration building up inside them. Patroclus, his innocent and naive cousin, was as taut as a drawn bow. Achilles knew that the boy would rush to join in if he so much as nodded his assent. There was no chance of that. He was Achilles, and he would not give in until Agamemnon complied with his wishes. And even if the Myrmidon did fight, He would not permit Patroclus to take part. The boy was too young and inexperienced. Let him be innocent for a few more years before his nights started to be filled with dreams of the men he killed.

He turned his attention to the duel below. The golden warrior that he had fought the other day was the best fighter that Achilles had ever encountered, but the young man who now fought Menelaus certainly had to be one of the worst he had ever seen. Achilles could feel himself getting agitated with the Trojan youth as he finally decided to launch his own offensive and emerged from behind the shelter of his shield, lunging at Menelaus with wild and ill-aimed swipes which, unfortunately for the young man, missed. Menelaus took hold of the young man's shield and swung him around, flinging him away. The Spartan King tossed the shield aside, laughing at his opponent's incompetence. Above them, the crows circled.

* * *

Paris gripped his sword with both hands, trying his best not to be petrified. He watched Menelaus' sword closely. The king swung it with such ease. He blocked one blow, two, three, and then Menelaus caught him off guard and sliced his muscle just above his knee. Blood spurted from the wound. The leg collapsed beneath him. Paris cried out in pain. He made a final attempt to strike at Menelaus, but the larger and older man simply knocked the Sword of Troy out of his hand and into the sand.

"Pick up your sword and fight," whispered Balian. "Fight him. Fight!"

"If you ain't good enough, fight while runnin'," whispered Jack. Even the usually nonchalant pirate was concerned. "Honour don't matter much when yer life's at risk."

Paris' courage broke. He grabbed a handful of sand and flung it in Menelaus' eyes. While the Spartan king was temporarily blinded, he turned tail and fled to his brother. He knelt at his brother's feet, clutching Hector's leg.

'Cheating,' thought Jack. 'I like that. Wish I had a brother like Hector, even though he can be stuffy at times.'

Balian and Legolas both cringed at the humiliation, even though they were not the ones kneeling at Hector's feet. Balian looked away, unable to watch anymore.

Menelaus looked at the pathetic form of Paris sprawled on the ground in front of Hector. Why had Helen preferred that thing over him? He lifted his arms to the sky and looked up at the top of the city walls where she surely would be. "Is this what you left me for?" he demanded in humiliation and anger. His voice echoed across the vastness of the battlefield. He turned back to Paris. Hector or no, they would finish this duel as two men. "Get up!" he shouted. "Get up! This is not worthy of royalty!"

Hector was torn. He could the pain of his brother's humiliation. And yet, as a man, Paris should be getting up and fighting. He looked down at Paris. A man? No, this was a child; his little brother who was looking to him for protection. "The fight is over," he said to Menelaus.

"Over?" snarled Menelaus. "The fight is not over! Stand aside, Prince Hector. I'll kill him at your feet, I don't care!"

Hector did not move. Balian's respect for this man grew. He had killed his younger brother. If he was Hector, he might have made Paris fight. "He's my brother," said Hector.

Menelaus did not hear the warning tone in Hector's voice. He stepped closer and made to stab Paris but Hector moved first. He pushed Paris aside, pulled out his own sword and in one swift moment had pierced Menelaus' abdomen. Blood spurted out from the wound. Menelaus staggered backwards, with blood staining his beard. And then, he fell and lay still.

"And so the battle begins," said Legolas, drawing an arrow from his quiver. Balian unsheathed his sword. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the Greek army. They seemed to be spreading out so that their lines were longer than those of the Trojans'.

"Legolas, Barbossa, Will, Jack, they're trying to flank us?"

"What do you mean?" said Barbossa.

"They're going to encircle us, block us off from any possible reinforcements," said Legolas. "Does Hector know?"

Balian looked where Hector was. The older prince was shouting after Paris, who was running towards the advancing Greek army. What was the younger man doing? Did he want to die after everything that his brother had done to save his life? Paris dove to the ground and scooped up something.

"'Tis the sword," said Legolas. "He's finally showing signs of courage."

"A little bit too late for that," said Will. "The battle has started. By the locker, I wish he'd showed some courage back then and fought on. Even I felt disgraced."

"We have to stop them from circling us," said Balian.

"How?" demanded Jack.

Balian didn't answer. Instead, he turned to the Trojan cavalry. "You!" he said to the captain. "To the flank with me, now! Legolas, you take the other contingent and go to the other flank!" He scrambled onto his horse, once again regretting his failure to craft stirrups and make a saddle. Balian dug his heels into the horse's flanks and lead the cavalry away to the left flank.

"Is he allowed to do that?" asked Will.

"Who cares?" said Jack. "I'm staying right here. The battle's going to come to us whether we like it or not."

* * *

Priam rushed forward as Paris tumbled from the horse's back, bloodied but alive, and still clutching the Sword of Troy. "My son," he said, catching the wounded young man in his arms and embracing him. Paris looked away in shame. His father had seen him grovelling before Hector. They all had. Helen, Andromache, Cassandra, his mother, his friends, his brother. Hector.

He couldn't bear to look at them, knowing the condemnation and the disapproval. Paris knew he would never be like his brother. Hector had no fault. He was brave, a hero, and he would never give up his honour and pride. "I'm a coward," he said. Paris freed himself from his father's arms and limped away. He wanted to be alone with his dark thoughts. Helen called out to him. He did not turn around. He felt her hand on his arm, and only then did he look at her.

"You're hurt," she said. "Let your father's physicians tend to you."

"No," he said. "I don't deserve it."

"Paris, please..."

Paris caught her hand in his own. Her skin was so soft and her bones were so fine. "How can you love me?" he asked. "I disgust myself." With that, he continued on his way.

* * *

Balian was glad that Achilles was not here. The battle was difficult enough already. The Trojans were outnumbered. He found himself facing a giant. The mountain of a man seemed to be avoiding Barbossa deliberately. The blacksmith leapt off his horse to avoid being smashed by the giant's war club. The stone head hit the horse. The animal screamed in pain and fell sideways, almost crushing Balian. The Sword of Ibelin became trapped under the animal's corpse. Balian quickly picked up a short Trojan sword and ducked again as the giant swung his club. He had no weapon long enough to reach the giant, and Legolas was away on the other side defending the right flank.

Then he remembered it. He still had Jack's 'gun'. As he dodged and weave, trying to evade the giant's club, he reached for the weapon at his belt. He remembered Jack had done something with a little lever at the back. The pirate's finger had been on another lever. Balian wrapped his last three fingers around the handle placed his index finger on the trigger. With his thumb, he pushed the flintlock forward, and then pointing the gun at the giant, he fired. The force shocked him, as did the noise. He heard the giant roar in pain as the projectile lodged itself in his leg. The moment of reprieve gave Balian the chance to retrieve his much longer sword from beneath the horse. He put the pistol away. It definitely was useful.

* * *

Will was _not _enjoying this. He'd thought that the battle with the East India Trading Company would be the last battle that he would ever fight, but apparently the heathen gods were playing with him. Some distance away, Balian was being chased by the same giant who had chased Will during the first skirmish. The giant was swinging his hammer wildly, nearly hitting Balian. The blacksmith was surrounded by Greeks, all trying to kill him. The pirate cut the throat of the man he was fighting with and then went to help his friend.

He cut his way through the melee and made his way behind the giant. He stabbed the mountain of a man in the calf, causing him to fall onto one knee. "Balian!" he shouted. "Get away! I'll deal with him!"

"Be careful!" said Balian as Will engaged the giant in battle. The blacksmith was quickly occupied again.

'Don't worry,' thought Will. 'I can't die...I think.'

* * *

Calchas could barely contain his fury. Once again, those newcomers had ruined his plans. He cursed that man called Balian who displayed the qualities of a leader of men. The High Priest had made his decision. He would be the first to go, and he knew just how. With the King and everyone else too occupied with the battle below, Calchas slipped away to find the sacred statue that still bore bloody handprints.

* * *

**A/N: **Not much funnies in this one. It's sort of hard to maintain that sort of tone. I hope you enjoyed it anyway. This chapter was more of a focus on the other characters, such as Paris. I'll try and do a bit more Jack next time. And Balian of course. Can't live without him. By the way, the ancients were obsessed with treating sacred things with respect, and touching a sacred statue with bloody hands counts as sacrilege (hint hint). Can you guess what our friend Calchas is going to do? 


	10. Sacrilege

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Hector, Paris...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 10: Sacrilege**

Jack saw Will run past him. The next thing the pirate knew, a giant was charging at him with a war hammer of stone. He leapt out of the way, but the hammer hit his sword. It broke, leaving him with a stub of blade about six inches long.

"Bugger bugger bugger bugger bugger," said Jack, throwing the remnants of his sword at his enemy and searching about desperately for a weapon. His eye fell on Barbossa, and he reached out to grab the other pirate's pistol. Barbossa was too busy fighting to notice that he had been robbed. Jack quickly put a lead ball through the head of a Greek who was trying to kill him. The Greek's companion roared in anger and ran at Jack. "Sorry!" said Jack as he pushed past Greek and Trojan alike, trying to get away from the furious man and reloading the pistol at the same time.

Hector watched the battle with increasing worry. Thank the gods Balian had seen that they had been about to be flanked and had taken his own initiative to stop that from happening. Legolas' prowess was intimidating the Greeks who looked as if they wanted to flee from him but did not dare to do so without their commanders' consent. To his left, the giant Ajax was wreaking mayhem. No Trojan who tried to fight him survived, although Will served as an effective deterrent to Ajax, distracting him with quick darting moves. Most of the Trojans gave Ajax a wide berth.

The prince knew that the giant warrior's presence threatened to lower his troops' morale. He had to do something, as their commander. Hector hefted his spear and urged his horse forward towards the giant. As he readied to plunge the spear into Ajax's chest, Ajax swung his shield around. The spear went wide, and the horse was thrown onto its side. Hector flew several feet and landed on his back with the air driven from his lungs. Ajax lunged at the prince with his hammer raised, ready to bring it down on him. At the last moment, Hector snatched up a large shield that was lying next to him and brought it between himself and the rapidly falling hammer head. His other hand found a spear and he gripped it tightly. The hammer head smashed through the shield, stopping just an inch or so above Hector. The prince sent a swift prayer of thanks up to the gods.

Ajax watched the shield. It did not move. He snorted, satisfied that he had killed Hector, Prince of Troy and Light of the Dardan Lands. He was about to lift his hammer when the body beneath the shield suddenly came to life. Hector flung away the shield and Ajax's hammer along with it. He thrust the spear up the giant's ribcage. The bloody spearhead emerged from the other side.

Even though he was mortally wounded, Ajax still possessed strength which rivalled that of Heracles. With one swipe of his arm, he sent Hector flying. The giant broke off the shaft of the spear and used it as a weapon, bringing it down upon Hector's back. Hector drew his sword, and made ready to do battle with the wounded giant. Ajax managed to trap the prince and proceeded to crush him.

Jack knew he should do something, but he had run out of shots and he had no desire to throw away such a fine pistol. Barbossa would kill him. He saw a rock at his feet. He picked it up. It was roughly the weight of a coconut. The pirate gave it a few experimental tosses and then threw it. The rock hit the back of Ajax's head and bounced off, but it was enough to make him drop Hector, who promptly drove his sword into the giant's heart. Ajax staggered. His knees gave away beneath him and he toppled over onto the ground. Cheers erupted around Hector. Breathing rapidly, he pulled his sword out of the Greek.

"Jolly good effort, mate," called Jack as he picked up a fallen sword. "You owe me."

Hector had no time to say anything to the pirate. Glaucus, his father's old general, had brought him his horse. He mounted. From this height, he could see much better. The Greeks had ruined their formation while trying to flank the Trojans. It would be easy now just to force them back through sheer strength. "Push!" he shouted to his men. Behind their shields, the Trojans heaved, shoving the Greek force backwards. Trojan spears were thrust through the gaps between the shields.

Balian found himself in the front line, pushing together with the foot soldiers. It had been years since he'd done this. He grunted with the effort as he took another step forwards, forcing the Greeks to retreat. There was a red mist as Greek soldiers were brought down by archers on the top of the wall.

Odysseus didn't like what was happening. If nothing was done to stop the onslaught, there would be a massacre and he doubted the Greeks could emerge as victors. "You have to retreat!" he shouted to Agamemnon.

"My army's never lost a battle yet!" roared Agamemnon.

"You won't have an army if you don't fall back!"

* * *

From his sand dune, Achilles couldn't help but feel pleased that the Greeks had lost this battle. He knew he shouldn't be thinking like this but he was glad that Hector, a young man with an army half the size of Agamemnon's, had beaten the arrogant High King of Mycenae. 'Well done, Prince of Troy,' thought the Myrmidon warrior. 

Patroclus was beside himself with frustration. "Achilles," he said. "If you were down there instead of up here, we wouldn't be beaten...Achilles? Are you actually pleased?!"

"Let's just say I prefer the Trojans to Agamemnon," said Achilles. He started to make his way back to the camp.

"But Achilles!" said the enraged Patroclus, storming after his stubborn cousin. "They're the enemy! Agamemnon is your king!"

"The Trojan prince fights his own battles. That's more than I can say for Agamemnon. If I wasn't born a Greek, I'd be fighting for him."

* * *

From his quarters, Paris heard the shouts and cheers as people celebrated the victory. Hector's victory. It made the younger prince feel even more ashamed of himself. He didn't deserve such a brother. He sighed. The pain of humiliation stung him like a thousand fire ants. He could not rid himself of it. 'Coward,' he thought. 'You're such a coward, Paris. Menelaus was right about one thing; you're not worthy of royalty.'

* * *

Helen grew more and more anxious as time went by. Paris had locked himself in his chambers and he refused to come out or to allow anyone to see him. She wrung her hands and paced outside his door, trying to think of ways to persuade him to let someone tend to his wounds. She saw Hector coming down the corridor. "Hector!" she cried. "Thank the gods! Paris won't come out, and he won't let anyone in. Maybe you can talk to him. He hasn't eaten anything and he won't let anyone tend to his wounds." 

Hector knocked on Paris' door. "It's me, Paris," he said. "Open the door." There was no response. "Paris? Paris, if you don't open this door, I am going to ram it down." There was the grate of wood on the other side as Paris unlocked the door. It slowly opened. Paris looked awful. His leg wound was encrusted with blood and his face was haggard.

"Why have you come, Hector?" he croaked.

"Oh, Paris, I'm worried about you," said Hector. He reached out to embrace his younger brother but Paris shrank away.

"I don't deserve your love, or anyone else's," he said.

"Love doesn't have to be deserved, Paris," said Hector. "It is given freely. I love you because you are my brother. Now stop being silly and let someone clean your wound. I didn't go to all that trouble to save you just so you can die of blood poisoning."

Paris nodded, and Hector clapped him on the shoulder. He made to leave, but then turned back. "You'll make us all proud one day," he said. Paris watched his brother go. Hector's words reverberated in his mind and lifted his spirits. His brother had faith in him, even though he had shown himself to be a coward. The younger prince smiled for the first time since his defeat. He would not fail Hector.

* * *

"To victory!" said a very drunken Jack. He couldn't remember how many times he had said that already. Once more wouldn't do any harm. He brought his golden cup to his lips, sloshing liquid all over himself. These Trojans made some good stuff. It wasn't rum, but it was pretty bloody close as far as Jack was concerned. 

"No thanks to you," muttered Balian as he polished an apple and watched Will show Legolas how to use a pistol. The elf was learning fast. The blacksmith sank his teeth into the fruit.

"Push the flint lock forwards first," said Will. "Now have your index finger on the trigger...yes, like that. Perfect. Now point it at something— I know it's tempting but no, you can't point it at Jack's cup. You might hit him instead."

Balian looked at his half finished apple. "Legolas, shoot this," he said, throwing it high into the air. Moving so quickly that none could follow, Legolas took aim and fired. Bits of apple showered down on them.

"Bravo," said Will. His eyes were full of admiration. Barbossa was clapping slowly while Jack the monkey screeched and blocked his ears, jumping up and down.

"Master Greenleaf, you are most welcome to join my crew," said Barbossa.

"With a shooter like that, the Greeks don't stand a chance," said Will.

"Too bad there's only one Legolas," said Balian.

"Achilles wasn't there today," said Legolas. "He's the only one worth mentioning. Without him, the Greeks were as organized as an Orc scout party."

* * *

Calchas quickly wrote another letter to Agamemnon. After today's victory, Priam wouldn't be very eager to kill anyone, not even for sacrilege. There was a village to the north of Troy. That was where a lot of supplies were stored. It was a stronghold, protected by the rocky and difficult terrain. There was only one way to get up to the village and only Trojans knew of that hidden path, which was hardly more than a goat track. The High Priest drew a map of the village and the secret path, and added detailed instructions telling Agamemnon how to get there. He sealed the letter and gave it to his mute servant to deliver.

* * *

Agamemnon peered into his cup, finding only bitter dregs resting at the bottom. He flung the vessel away angrily, splashing his advisor Nestor's cloak. "They're laughing at me in Troy," he said. "Drunk with victory!" 

"Maybe we should go home," said Odysseus, rubbing his chin.

"I never abandon a campaign!" shouted Agamemnon.

"The men believe we came for Menelaus' wife," said Odysseus. "We won't be needing her anymore."

"My brother's blood still wets the sand and you insult him!" said Agamemnon, enraged at the Ithacan's bluntness.

"It is no insult to say that a dead man is dead," said Odysseus calmly.

Before the argument could go any further, a messenger rushed into the tent. "My lords," he said, kneeling before Agamemnon. "Sire, a Trojan emissary waits outside."

"Cut off his head and stick it on a spear!" shouted the High King of Mycenae.

"Wait," said Odysseus. "Send him in. He might have something useful to tell us."

* * *

The Trojan court was in an uproar. "The Greeks have sacked the village of Arenios, taking three months worth of supplies," read Glaucus from the report. "Three months! How did they even find their way up to the village? There is only one hidden goat trail!" 

"It is the will of the gods," said Priam gravely.

"My king speaks truly," said Calchas, standing up to address the court. "The gods are punishing us, and rightly so, for the greatest sacrilege has been committed."

Priam stood up abruptly. His eyes were wild with religious fervour. "What sacrilege?" he demanded.

Instead of speaking, Calchas clapped his hands. Once, twice. Two lesser priests came forward, bearing on a little litter the sacred statue covered with rust coloured hand prints.

Murmurs of horror rippled through the assembled men. Balian began to feel uneasy. They were his bloody hand prints.

Aeneas and Hector both turned to look at the blacksmith. They knew that he had rescued the sacred statue from the temple during the first battle. Their eyes were full of worry. This was a serious breach of religious protocol. If it was indeed Balian who had brought the wrath of the gods upon Troy then, friend or not, he had to be punished in order to assuage the deities' anger.

"Someone has defiled the sacred figurine!" said Calchas. "He must be sought out, and made to pay the price!"

"Who did this vile thing?" demanded Priam. "Who?"

Legolas shook his head Balian, but the stubborn blacksmith stood up despite the warning. He knew that Calchas had seen him with the statue and there was no point in hiding it.

"Now that's stupid," said Jack quietly.

"I did," said Balian "unknowingly."

"Ignorance is no excuse," said Calchas. He had that foolish young man now. "The gods will punish us for this offence. They have already started! You have doomed us all!" Members of the Apollonian guard stepped forward, ready to seize Balian but the young man boldly approached the High Priest.

"I wonder if it was the gods, or someone else, who taught the Greeks how to sack the village of Arenios," said Balian. He and Calchas were standing less than a hand span apart. The two men circled each other, like mountain lions getting ready to fight.

"Legolas, we have to do something," whispered Will to the elf. "He's going to get himself killed!"

"I think he's getting at something," said the elf softly. "I know him well enough to know that he isn't trying to commit suicide, although it might seem like it."

"Still, something needs to be done!"

"What do you suggest we do?" hissed the elf, who was also trying to figure out what Balian was trying to do with his seemingly suicidal actions.

"I'm thinking," said Will. "I'm thinking very hard."

"If such a small offence can bring upon us the wrath of your gods, then by rights the Greeks should be utterly destroyed," Balian continued "for they desecrated the temple and even the golden statue of Apollo was beheaded! And yet, the Greeks have managed to sack the village. Don't the gods care, or can't they care or..." He turned back to the High Priest "maybe you've misinterpreted the divine intentions?"

"He really has gone too far," said Will.

Legolas didn't say anything. He was too busy noting everyone else's reactions. Priam was furious, and the princes were tense. They had caught Balian's meaning.

"You know, I support him, mind and soul, just not in body," said Jack.

"Recent events have led me to believe that there is a traitor in our midst," said Balian. "And you do not need to look further than your own High Priest!"

Chaos erupted. Everyone started shouting! "He's a liar!" roared the noblemen, most of whom were Calchas' supporters. "He has no proof! Your majesty, you cannot let him get away with this!"

Priam raised a hand. Everyone fell silent, looking at him with apprehension. "I have heard enough of this blasphemous talk, foreigner," said the King. "You shall insult neither the gods nor their servants anymore!"

The Apollonian guard seized Balian. He struggled against them as they tried to make him kneel. One man kneed him in the stomach, making him double over in pain. Another kicked him behind his legs, causing him to fall to his knees. There was a crack as he landed on the stone floor.

Legolas made to run to him, but Barbossa restrained him. "You'll not be doin' him any favours by gettin' yourself killed," said the old pirate. "Live today; fight tomorrow. We'll be needin' a plan to save him."

"Barbossa's right," said Will. "We can't save him through brute force."

"Your majesty!" shouted Balian. "Who is in charge? You? The gods? Or is it Calchas? He is the one giving the orders, using the name of the gods!"

It took all of Legolas' control to make him stay still as Calchas struck Balian hard across the face to silence him. One of the heavy rings he wore tore through the flesh on Balian's cheek. The cold edge of a blade was placed against the young man's neck, drawing a thin line of glistening red which stood out starkly against his skin.

"You say any more, and we'll cut you here," said Calchas quietly so that only Balian could hear. "And then you won't be able to say anything ever again." He turned to the guards. "Take him away!"

Hector wanted desperately to do something, but he could only watch on helplessly as they dragged Balian away, hitting him with their fists to subdue him. The man was right. The ruler of Troy wasn't Priam, and it definitely wasn't Hector.

It was Calchas.

* * *

**A/N: **Mwahahahaha! Calchas shows his true powers! I had been meaning to put the gods into this fic but then it's so much more fun having an evil High Priest pretending to be the gods. How will Balian get out of this one? Reviews, please? 


	11. Divine Intervention

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Hector, Paris...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

_By the way, I made a wee trailer for this. You can see it here at __**www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?vtPT-rjoQxx8 **__(without the spaces). _

**Chapter 11: Divine Intervention**

Legolas cursed inwardly in every tongue he knew as Priam announced the time and manner of Balian's punishment; death by burning, in five days. If Balian had to reveal the High Priest's true nature, couldn't he have been more subtle? Legolas supposed that subtlety was not one of the blacksmith's strong points. He glanced at Hector, who was as powerless as the rest of them in such a situation. "Alright, Barbossa," said the elf. "You told me to live today and fight tomorrow. How are we going to fight?"

"What manner of 'fighting' are you looking for?" asked the old pirate.

"Preferably something that won't make us fugitives," said Will. "It has to be based on reason, rather than the sword."

"Captain Turner, you are talking about politics," said Barbossa.

"Politics?" said Jack. "Nasty stuff. Never liked it myself." He wrinkled his nose. They were so immersed in their conversation that they did not notice Paris approaching them. There was a small limp in the prince's urgent stride but he was quickly on his way to becoming whole again.

"We need to save him," said Paris. "Sacrilege or not, I won't see him burn. He is right. Calchas is using the gods' authority to control my father, and through him, Tory. The old snake is up to something."

"Have you spoken to your brother and cousin about it?" asked Legolas.

"I have. They are uncertain as to what should be done. They are afraid of offending the gods."

"And you? Are you not afraid of offending the gods?"

"After what Balian said, I'm not sure they care."

"We can't do anything without Hector's support," said Will. "Even if Calchas can override his authority, he still has great influence."

"I'll talk to him," said Paris.

* * *

Calchas went down to the dungeons where they now housed Balian. The prisoner was quiet, for the moment, but without doubt he would start talking again if he had listeners. "Silence him," he said to his servants "inconspicuously. He knows too much and he can say a lot in five days."

* * *

Hector was troubled. One part of him greatly desired to save Balian, who had proven himself to be a steadfast and loyal friend. Another part told him that anything he was planning would be futile, not to mention dangerous. The gods themselves would cut down the man who had committed sacrilege if the Trojans did not. There was no point in incurring the anger of the gods if it would not spare his friend. He sighed. 

"Hector?" said Andromache. "What's wrong?" She came over to him and rested her hand on his arm. The prince turned to look at his wife. If Andromache had been a man, she would've made a fine commander. He told her about the incident between Balian and Calchas.

"I don't know what to do," he said.

"What does your heart say?" said Andromache.

Hector shook his head. "My heart is divided," He wanted to say more but a knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. Paris came in.

"I need to talk to you, Hector," he said. "Alone."

Andromache looked from Hector to Paris, and then back at Hector. "I'll go and see the queen," she said. "I have been meaning to do that for quite some time." She kissed her husband and then walked past Paris, closing the door behind her.

"We need to save Balian," said Paris. "You know it in your heart that he's right. If the gods won't punish the Greeks for beheading the statue of Apollo, they're not going to care about our sacred statue. Calchas is using Father's faith. You can't let a good man burn for seeing through the High Priest's illusions."

"What can I do, Paris?" said Hector. "Against Calchas, my word is nothing. Only divine intervention can save Balian now."

Paris stilled and was thoughtful. His mind worked furiously. Divine intervention...divine intervention...hadn't Balian survived a wound that would have killed any other man? And everyone thought that Legolas was more than just a man. Then there was Barbossa and the monkey that couldn't be killed.

"So we'll use divine intervention," said Paris. "Come, we have to talk to the others."

Hector was utterly dumbfounded by his brother's proposal. Had Paris become mad like Cassandra or, gods forbid, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow?

* * *

Agamemnon was in a very good mood as he strode into his large spacious tent with a report in his hand. Nestor bowed as the king came in. "My liege," said the old man. 

"Everything is going according to plan," said Agamemnon, slamming the piece of parchment onto his low carved wooden desk and falling into his chair. "The report from the spies says that the Trojan court has descended into utter chaos. Soon, we will be rid of Hector, if Calchas does his part properly, and Troy will be ripe for taking."

"Just one thing, Sire," said Nestor. "We need Achilles, and his Myrmidon."

"Wrong, Nestor," said Agamemnon, leaning back with a satisfied look on his face. "I don't _need_ Achilles."

"My lord," said Nestor patiently. "Troy is like an old tree with roots which dig deep down into the ground, holding it fast. You need the strongest gale to blow it over."

"Troy, Nestor, is rotting from within," said Agamemnon. He picked up the report again. "It says here that old King Priam is about to put a good warrior and talented commander to death because Calchas has accused the man of sacrilege. With the influential High Priest on our side, there is no chance that we won't win."

"You forget. Calchas is on no one's side but his own. He won't let Troy fall into your hands."

"He has promised me!"

"Men like that break their promises to everyone. If he can betray his own king, he can betray you. And I have heard the men speaking of a golden warrior who fights for Troy. His prowess is unmatched. They say he moves faster than a man's eye can follow. He leaves no prints when he runs on sand and his arrows are swift and always true. Some say he is Apollo, taking on the shape of a man so he can defend his city. Others insist that he is Ares, taking the Trojans' side. Whatever he is, we need Achilles to fight him. Only the son of a goddess can be a match for a god."

"Fine! Let's say we need Achilles. I can't control him! The man won't listen to me! He is as likely to spear me as to speak with me!"

"Just give him his slave girl back and then Odysseus can speak to him on your behalf."

Agamemnon snorted impatiently. "He can have the damn girl," he said. "I haven't even touched her."

"Then where is she?" said Nestor, dreading what he was about to hear.

"I gave her to the men," said the High King. Nestor wasted no time in getting word to Achilles. He doubted the leader of the Myrmidon would be very happy if someone raped his slave girl.

* * *

"It might work," said Will when Paris described his plan to them. They were gathered in an unused weapons storage room. Ragetti and Pintel were on the roof with Will's telescope, acting as lookouts. "But how are we going to convince your father that the gods have chosen Balian and therefore it would be sacrilege to kill him?" 

"The spear wound," said Paris. "Legolas and Barbossa can pretend to be divine messengers. Legolas fights like a god and he glows in the dark, and Barbossa's monkey can't die. You two can tell my father that he can't kill Balian."

"This is mad," said Jack.

"Coming from Sparrow, it has to mean something," said Barbossa.

"But it will work, if we substitute Barbossa with William," continued Jack. "He can walk through walls..."

Hector choked and Aeneas' eyes looked as if they might fall out of their sockets. "He can what?!" they both said. Paris was too shocked to make a sound.

Will, Jack and Barbossa hurriedly explained what it truly meant to be the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_.

"You're Charon," said Paris in a small voice. "You're the boatman of the Styx..."

"No no," said Jack. "Charon ferries souls across the _River_ Styx. The whelp ferries souls across the ocean, and he doesn't take payment, stupid blighter."

"Jack," said Will with a warning tone in his voice.

"I think Father really will believe it if Will walks through the wall and then tells him that killing Balian is sacrilege," said Paris.

"Hopefully it won't frighten Uncle Priam too much," said Aeneas.

"So when do we do this?" said Legolas.

"Tomorrow night, the fourth hour after sundown," said Paris. "Father will go to the temple of Zeus to pray. We will meet at the east of the temple, under the tall fig tree. Now, let's discuss entrances and exits..." He took out a piece of parchment and a piece of charcoal for drawing. With smooth firm strokes, he sketched out a map of the temple.

Hector watched his younger brother with admiration. Paris might have no idea how to use a sword and he might be a hopeless commander, but when it came to shrewdness and deception, he surpassed everyone.

* * *

Achilles could hear her screaming. The sound made his heart thud like the hooves of a herd of stampeding horses. He ran. He could see her now, being clawed at by drunken men. They threw her around like a sack of meal, or a lump of meat, laughing at her fear. One of them lifted a piece of hot metal from the fire. The rest held her still. Achilles wasn't about to let anything happen to her. Greek or not, he leapt at the man who was about to apply the red hot piece of metal to her flesh and turned the brand around so that it seared the man's neck instead. 

The warrior wrenched away the brand from the drunk and pointed it at the others like a sword. They promptly dropped the girl and ran, not willing to engage the furious Achilles in a brawl over a Trojan girl. When he looked at her, he felt strange, as if he was not just a warrior but a man who could feel. In her, he could see the possibility of another life, one in which he could love and be loved.

He dropped the brand into the sand and picked her up in his arms. She whimpered and struggled against him but she was so weak from hunger and fatigue. "Shh," he said to calm her down. "I'm not going to hurt you." Achilles carried her back to his tent and laid her on his furs, regretting that they weren't cleaner. He didn't know much about women but he knew that they liked to be clean.

The warrior pulled over a basin of water with a wash cloth floating in it. At least that was clean. He wrung out the cloth and tried to wipe the blood and dirt from her face but each time he moved towards her, she pushed him away. 'She has more spirit than most men,' he thought, remembering when they had first met. She had told him her name: Briseis. It was a beautiful name. He swallowed his frustration and repeated the action a couple of times. Then he lost patience and threw the wash cloth at her. She threw it back and hit him in the face. If it had been anyone else, he would have taught them a lesson but he only sighed and dropped the cloth back into the basin. They had a long way to go.

* * *

It was totally dark when they all gathered at the prearranged meeting place. "Are you ready?" whispered Paris. 

"For Balian's sake, we have to be," said Legolas.

"I have a question," said Jack. "What if your father doesn't believe Legless and the whelp?"

"Then we're doomed," said Will. "Or Balian will be, at least."

They all took their designated places. Legolas was going to go in through one of the side doors and Will would appear walking through the wall behind the altar.

"I can't believe I'm helping to fool my own father," said Hector to Aeneas. "The pirates must be influencing me."

"I can't believe Paris came up with a plan like this all by himself," said Aeneas. "It seems that we've underestimated him."

"Don't say that until we've succeeded in getting Balian out alive."

* * *

Priam knelt before the altar in the dimly lit temple, begging the gods to protect his country. His lips moved in silent prayer. And then he stopped. A man emerged from the wall behind the altar and then walked right through the altar. "Priam," said the figure. "You are about to commit a great offence. Heed my words and do not make this mistake, for you will bring down upon Troy the wrath of all the gods on Olympus." 

Will hoped that he sounded divine enough. He had never had to pretend to be anything before, much less a god. From the look on Priam's face, it seemed that he had succeeded. "Who are you?" whispered the king.

"Only one of the gods' messengers, sent to warn you," replied Will. Thank God he had Jack and Paris to help him prepare these lines. He could never make up anything so pompous. "You know my name, but that is of no importance."

Before Priam could say anything else, he heard a low melodic voice, like the sound of waves on the sand, calling his name. He turned around. A figure, shimmering with divine light, glided towards him with smooth and certain steps. "Priam, son of Laomedon," said the golden glowing one. "You cannot harm the man who is known as Balian. To do so would be sacrilege."

"But he has committed sacrilege..." began the old king. The golden being shook his head.

"No, he has been chosen by the gods to do their work. To harm him in anyway would bring down the wrath of every deity upon you and your city."

Will looked at Legolas in awe. The elf sounded exactly the way a god should. He was very thankful that Legolas would take over from this point onwards.

Priam looked at the two of them. "Hector was right," said Priam. "It is not a mere coincidence that you all look like my son."

"The gods work in mysterious ways, King Priam," said Legolas.

"Decide wisely, King of Troy," said Will. They both turned, as they had practised, and left the king still kneeling before the altar. Will disappeared through the wall. While the king was too preoccupied with Will's spectacular exit, Legolas slipped through a side door.

* * *

**A/N: **Paris vs. Calchas. An unlikely combination, I know. Balian will re-enter the story the next chapter. At the moment, he's still locked up and rather unhappy about his situation. 


	12. A Game of Deception

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Hector, Paris...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 12: A Game of Deception**

"How did it go?" demanded Paris as soon as Will and Legolas got back to the fig tree.

"I was so nervous," said Will.

"You did well," Legolas assured him. "I think he really believed us."

"That was the easy part, convincing my father," said Paris. "Now we'll have to convince the entire court and bring them onto our side and thus strip Calchas of support."

"That will be harder than it sounds," said Hector. "Everyone trusts the High Priest and has done so for years since before Paris was born. He will suffer no rival."

"Yes, but Calchas can't walk through walls or glow in the dark, can he?" said Aeneas, grinning. He clapped Will on the back. "Now you'll have to perform in front of the whole court. I wish you luck and I wouldn't trade places with you for all the riches in the world."

"Balian owes me big time," muttered Will.

* * *

Calchas did not feel there was anything wrong when the king summoned all the noblemen. They were at war, after all, and no doubt there was one important matter or another which needed to be discussed. However, that soon changed when he saw the golden warrior seated at the king's right hand, even before Hector. In the dim light of the main hall, he seemed to be glowing from within. The one called Will Turner was missing. The High Priest assumed he would not be attending the meeting but as soon as they were all seated, he emerged from the wall, waling right through furniture. The entire court was silent as he took his seat, next to Paris and opposite Legolas. 

"The execution of the man called Balian will be called off," announced Priam. "The gods have decreed it. Anyone who dares to harm him will be punished as one who has committed sacrilege."

"But Sire," said Calchas "he has committed sacrilege! He must be punished to appease the gods." What had brought about this sudden change of mind? He hoped that his men had done their work by now and that the man in question would be lying dead in his cell.

"High Priest," said Legolas. "To punish him would only further anger the gods. He is their chosen one. Already, they have spared him from the grasp of death, when he suffered a wound which no man could survive. And yet, he lives."

"Where is your proof?" said Calchas.

"Proof?" said Will. "He bears the scars from that wound. A Spear impaled his body. You will find two corresponding marks; one on his front and the other on his back, where the spear emerged."

"Bring the prisoner," said Priam. "I wish to inspect the scars which you have mentioned."

* * *

Balian sat cross-legged in the semi-darkness, his elbows resting on his knees. There was a bowl of food on the floor, but he dared not taste it, despite his hunger. He fingered the silver chain on which he wore Sibylla's ring. In the Holy Land, he had heard of a strange practice. Kings in the Far East would test their food for poison using silver. If the metal turned black when it came into contact with the food, it meant that poison was present. The blacksmith took the chain and touched it to the food. The metal darkened. 

He smiled grimly. "You want to silence me forever, Calchas?" he whispered. "It's not as easy as you think. I still have a few days." A few days. Was he to die the death of a traitor to Christendom after all? Out of necessity, he tested the jar of water in the corner as well. That too, was poisoned.

He sighed, trying to work some moisture into his parched mouth. How long would it take for the flames to kill him? Or would the smoke suffocate him first? "God, what is it you want of me?" he asked. As soon as he asked the question, there was the sound of the door being unlocked. Three Apollonian guards came in. He did not fight them, knowing it would be futile. Shackles were put around his wrists and ankles.

"The king requests your presence," said one of the guards.

'Will they kill me now?' wondered the blacksmith as he followed the guards through the maze of winding tunnels. 'Has Calchas persuaded the king to bring forward my execution?' To his surprise, they took him to the main hall, where all the noblemen had gathered. His friends were there. Legolas caught his eye and gave him a small reassuring smile. The elf's face was full of confidence.

Balian's shirt was torn from his body. The king stepped down from his throne, his eyes fixed on the white circular scars left by the orc spear which had impaled him before the Black Gates.

Calchas grew tenser as he saw the 'proof' with his own eyes. Could this man really be sent by the gods? He knew that he had failed once again, this time thwarted by divine intervention. "My king," he said. "I thought...I thought..."

"We all make mistakes sometimes, old friend," said Priam soothingly. Paris groaned inwardly. They had saved Balian but the king still trusted the High Priest, despite everything. "The gods' intentions are not always clear. I am thankful that they informed me before it was too late." He motioned to the guards to free Balian from his manacles.

"Forgive me, Divine One" said the king. "I did not know." He took Balian's hands in his own and made to kiss them.

"No, Sire..." stammered Balian. "My hands are filthy..." He was utterly confused. What was going on? He looked around. Paris stood up, glowing with the satisfaction of victory.

"Father," said the younger prince. "No doubt Balian is tired after his ordeal."

"Yes, yes, of course," said Priam.

"We will escort him back to his quarters," said Legolas. He nodded at the rest of the group. They ushered Balian back to his room, where a bath awaited him.

"What on earth is going on?" demanded the blacksmith as Legolas made him sit down on the bed and tried to inspect his body for injuries. "Why did the king call me 'divine one'?"

"It was Paris' idea," said Legolas. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," said Balian. Legolas snorted and rolled his eyes in a most un-elf-like fashion, something which he had most likely learned from Aragorn.

"It's true!" insisted Balian.

"For you, maybe," said Legolas, and then he stopped and looked at the man's face. "You really are fine, except for a few bruises."

"I told you so, Nurse Legolas. Why won't you believe me when I say that I'm fine?"

The others started laughing as Legolas glared at the grinning blacksmith and advanced on him menacingly. Balian quickly put up his hands to ward off the elf. "Hey, Legolas, I'm just keeping my promise," he said.

"What promise?" snarled the elf.

"I promised I'd get you back for calling me 'Nanny Balian'. I'm a man of my word."

"You want to get back at me for calling you 'Nanny Balian' and so you come up with...with that?" said Legolas, looking flustered.

"Of course," said Balian, grabbing a bunch of grapes from the bowl of fruit beside his bed and starting to devour them.

"But...but..that's just petty! Not to mention immature!"

"So I suppose you two are even now, Nanny Balian and Nurse Legolas," said a grinning Will Turner.

"Don't you start," warned the elf and the blacksmith.

"You're not allowed to hurt me, Balian," said Will. "I helped to save your life."

"Yes, how did you manage to make the king think that I was a 'divine one'?" said Balian, finishing the grapes and moving onto the pomegranates. He poured himself a cup of wine from the jug and took a few thirsty gulps. The golden liquid ran down his chin. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You have Paris to thank for that," said Hector. "He thought of the idea of having Legolas and Will pretend to be gods so that they could persuade Father that it would be sacrilege to kill you because you are chosen by the gods."

Balian snorted and sprayed out a mouthful of wine. "Legolas and Will, gods?" he gasped in between bouts of laughter. "That's ridiculous, no offence meant."

"That's what I thought, mate," said Jack, helping himself to Balian's wine. "But it worked."

"Too bad you couldn't see the look on Calchas' face when Father announced it," said Paris. "He looked as if he would burst."

* * *

"How is it possible?" Calchas demanded in the dark smothering silence of his temple. Only a single torch flickered smokily. "He is a blasphemer, and yet the gods protect him!" It was infuriating. With Balian almost portrayed as a god and the other two, Legolas and Will Turner, truly deified, the High Priest's influence would surely diminish even before the doubting Hector became king. Who needed priests when there were gods in the flesh? 

There had to be some way to get rid of the Crown Prince. With Paris on the throne, the High Priest could once again seize power. Calchas racked his mind for ideas. He needed a sign from the higher powers. The High Priest went out of the temple. A lone mournful cry pierced the air. An eagle balanced on the air currents high above the temple, with a serpent clutched in its claws. A small crowd had gathered and they pointed at the bird. Calchas could not help but feel that there was something ominous about this. Maybe it wasn't a sign, but who said he couldn't make it one?

* * *

Achilles watched Briseis sleep. She looked so innocent and blissful. He could spend his whole life with a woman like that and be satisfied. She was the greatest treasure that he had found in Troy. And he was happy with that. His mother had been wrong. He would not have found a woman like Briseis had he stayed in Greece. 

'Will you go back to Greece with me?' he wondered. 'Can you leave everything behind?' Achilles knew that he couldn't go to Troy. He had killed too many Trojans for them to accept him. And he definitely would not stay with Agamemnon's army.

Someone pushed open the tent flap. Immediately, he put his finger to his lips, motioning for whoever it was to be quiet. He didn't want Briseis to awaken. Let her wander in the bliss of her dreams for a while longer.

He ducked out of the tent. Odysseus waited for him outside. "Agamemnon is a proud man," began the king of Ithaca "but he knows when he's made a mistake."

"More likely he has realized that he can't fight the Trojans without my men," said Achilles. "Why do you serve him?"

"My friend, things are seldom simple when you're a king," said Odysseus, rubbing his face. The warrior could sense the fatigue that the king was trying so hard to hide. He knew it wasn't easy, being subjected to the whims of the High King of Mycenae. "I serve him to protect my people. He is a very powerful man."

"I don't fear him," said Achilles.

"That's your problem," said Odysseus. "You don't fear anything. Fear is useful. It shows you what you can do and what you can't do. It helps you to see your limits." He smiled at Achilles. "Someday, you will understand how it feels to fear, and then you will understand what I mean."

The warrior watched him go. He made no move to follow him. He had decided. "Prepare the ships," he said to Eudoras. "We sail home tomorrow."

"You can't just sail away!" said Patroclus. "These are our countrymen! You can't just run away from the battle!"

"If it's fighting you want, there'll always be another war," said Achilles unsympathetically. He knew just what was going through his cousin's mind. Once, long ago, he had been like that. Patroclus was so ignorant of the truths of war. If only he knew of the dreams which tormented Achilles every night, then maybe he might not be so eager to become a killer of men. He had no doubt that every warrior suffered from the same affliction, whether it was Hector, the glorious prince of Troy, the stubborn and bold Balian, or the golden godlike warrior; none were exempt. He wanted to escape these dreams. Achilles didn't want to be a lion anymore. He wanted to be a man.

* * *

The word that an eagle had been sighted clutching a serpent in its talons spread through Troy like fire through fields of wheat. Priam quickly summoned the noblemen and the two 'divine messengers' to discuss the meaning of it. Will sat through the discussion while remaining silent. He felt very uncomfortable about it. All this signified for him was that the eagle was hungry. There was nothing particularly meaningful. 

"It is a sign from the gods," said Calchas. "We will win a great victory against the Greeks if we attack." He knew very well that it wasn't true, but if Hector led an attack against Agamemnon's army, he would be exposed and thus easily killed.

"Bird signs," said the Crown Prince impatiently. "You want me to base my strategies on bird signs?"

"Hector, show some respect," said Priam. He turned to Legolas and Will. "What do you make of this?"

Both of the 'divine messengers' struggled to find words. "I can see no meaning in it," said Will after some silence.

The King looked at Balian. "And you?" he asked.

"I have no skill in interpreting omens," said Balian "but I know there is no need to attack the Greeks. They cannot breach our walls. We will just beat them back. Within these walls, we will outlast them. We have developed the right equipment to defend ourselves."

Calchas silently cursed him. Why did he have to be so reasonable?

Priam was not fond of the idea of staying behind the walls like cowards. "You are sure of this?" he asked Calchas.

"The desecration of his temple angers Apollo," said the High Priest. This was enough for the King of Troy.

"Hector, prepare the army," he said. "We attack at daybreak."

* * *

**A/N: **No, Calchas is not giving up yet. By the 'right equipment', Balian means one trebuchet, but considering Agamemnon has forgotten his siege ladders, it works perfectly fine. It was my birthday on Thursday. All I want for my birthday are reviews :D 


	13. Some Very Good Leverage

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Balian, Legolas, Jack, Will, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 13: Some Very Good Leverage**

Against his wishes, Hector found himself preparing to launch an attack on the Greek camp the next morning. Paris was most unhappy about the situation. "We don't know what Calchas is planning," he said. "Surely you don't intend to obey Father's orders, do you?"

"He is my father and my king," said Hector. "Where does my allegiance lie if not with him?"

"With your people," Balian replied promptly. "Your duty is first and foremost to the people of Troy, and you would serve them better if you stayed here to guard them."

"One does not defy a king," said Hector. His mind was made up and they could all see that nothing would be able to dissuade him from this course of action.

"Are you certain that you'll win?" said Will.

"No, the Greeks outnumber us," said Hector.

"But you have the element of surprise," said Legolas, who was examining Trojan bows and arrows.

"And if you can instil fear into the Greeks beforehand..." said Balian.

"How do you suggest we do that?" said Hector.

"I wouldn't suggest trying to move the trebuchet," said Balian "but there are other things which work just as well, provided we have fire..."

* * *

Cassandra wanted to talk to someone. She could not hold in her feelings for much longer, but who to talk to? Her brothers would not understand and even worse, they might tell. That would be so embarrassing. Andromache would definitely tell Hector. Who would understand how she was feeling? Her mind wandered to the least likely person of all; Helen, the woman, who for love, brought this war upon Troy. Helen, the woman who had given up everything and risked everything so she could be with the man she loved. She would understand how Cassandra was feeling and better yet, Paris was the more subtle of her brothers. Even if he somehow found out, he would be less likely to reveal her secret.

The princess went to Paris' quarters and knocked on the door. A moment later, Helen opened it. The former Spartan queen seemed surprised to see Cassandra there. "I'm afraid Paris isn't here at the moment," she said.

"Actually," began Cassandra awkwardly "I came to talk to you."

"To me?"

"Yes... I'm sorry for my outburst that day... I've seen how much you love Paris. You're probably the best thing that's ever happened to him. Can you forgive me?"

"Oh Cassandra," said Helen, smiling gently. "I have hoped that we could become friends."

Cassandra smiled back. It was easy to understand why Paris had fallen in love with this woman. It was impossible to hate her.

Helen led Cassandra inside. The girl gave a small whistle. "This room is actually presentable, for once," she said. "Paris was never one for being tidy and the servants had trouble keeping up with him."

"Truly?" said Helen. "I have not noticed. He has been nothing but meticulous."

"Maybe falling in love does really change people," said Cassandra.

"Believe me, it does," said Helen with a dreamy look on her beautiful face.

"How does it feel, to be in love?" asked Cassandra.

"It's wonderful. When I'm with your brother, I feel as if nothing can hurt me. His love shields me from everything that's bad. I would do anything for him and even follow him into Hades itself...why do you ask?"

"Because I think I'm in love," said the princess. "And I don't know what to do."

"Who is this lucky boy?" asked Helen.

"Well, he's not much of a boy...more of a man..."

"How old is he?"

"Around thirty, I think. I know he's older than Paris but younger than Hector. You might think that he's too old for me but everything about him is so wonderful and perfect. He's handsome, he's brave, he's everything a woman can want in a man. And like you said, he makes me feel safe, and...and...I trust him."

Helen looked at the younger woman intently. "Who is he?" she asked. Cassandra opened her mouth, but she stayed silent for a few moments before answering.

"Balian," she said in a soft voice.

"Balian? The foreigner? Paris told me he's been married once before and he would have married a second time if his lover had not abandoned him. If it wasn't for some cruel trick that the Fates played on him, he would've been a father by now."

"I know, and I don't care."

"Have you spoken to him about it?" Helen was beginning to grow anxious for her sister by marriage, not that she and Paris were officially married.

"Of course not! I wouldn't dare!" The former queen sighed. Girls like Cassandra were naive when it came to matters of love. Their hearts were easy to break.

Cassandra couldn't interpret Helen's expression. "Do you think it's...possible?"

"I don't know," said Helen honestly.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?"

Helen shook her head. Paris wasn't just anyone. He was part of her, and she was part of him.

Cassandra looked relieved. "Thank you," she said, and then left, just as Paris came in. He looked at his sister's departing form and then at Helen.

"What was that all about?" he asked.

"Your sister's in love," said Helen.

"I was wondering when that would happen," said Paris. "It'll be good for her, to be normal for once."

"Balian?"

"What do you mean?"

"Cassandra just confessed that she's in love with Balian."

"But he's too old for her! Gods, he's a good man but he's older than me!" Paris rubbed his face. "Don't let him know. He probably won't know how to react, the poor man. He's still very much in love with that other princess...I can't remember her name."

"What are we going to do about Cassandra?"

"Try to discourage her."

* * *

Calchas wrote yet another letter to Agamemnon, informing him of the impending attack. He knew that the letter was vague. Since the arrival of the strange foreigners, everything had been rendered unpredictable. Once again, he sent his mute servant to deliver the letter. Should the man be caught, he would be unable to betray the High Priest. Unknown to the two of them, a sparrow lurked in the nearby shadows and saw everything through a telescope.

Jack followed the High Priest's servant, keeping a constant distance between the two of them. Spying on Calchas had been Paris' idea and it was about to yield a big fat juicy fruit. 'As long as it's not a coconut, I'm good with it,' thought the pirate. He didn't like coconuts; it hurt when they hit him in the head. He waved up at the rooftops, where Legolas was watching. He knew the elf would be trailing the High Priest's servant too, from a greater elevation.

The servant slipped into a dark alleyway to better avoid detection. The sun was setting, and soon it would be too dark for the guards to see anything. Then he could slip out and make his way to the Greek camp. Legolas saw his moment and he launched a rock at the man's head, felling him immediately. Jack rushed to the man. "Still breathing," he muttered to himself. Legolas dropped down from the rooftops to join him.

"We'll take him to Paris' quarters and search him then," said the elf. "It's not safe out here. Someone might see us."

Between the two of them, they carried the unconscious man back to the palace, staggering a bit to give the impression that they were a couple of drunks carrying an intoxicated friend. Barbossa was waiting by the back door which led directly into the younger prince's apartments. "No one's following you?" he whispered.

"I would know if we were being trailed, Captain Barbossa," said Legolas.

"Just checking. Better safe than sorry."

"Why do you call him 'Captain Barbossa' when I'm just plain ole Jack?" demanded Jack. He got no answer.

Paris was waiting for them inside. Helen, thankfully, was not present. She would be horrified to know what her sweet beloved prince was doing. "Who in Hades is this?" he asked, looking at the unconscious man that Jack and Legolas were dragging in. "I thought you were spying on Calchas, not kidnapping civilians."

"This is Calchas' servant," said Legolas. Paris' eyes widened and he was all of a sudden very alert.

"He might be able to tell us something useful," he said.

"He won't tell you a single damn thing," said Jack casually, helping himself to Paris' wine. "Man's a bloody mute, and he ain't got no parrot to talk for him. You might as well just search him and be satisfied with that. I swear on me honour that I saw that slimy snake of a priest give him something and I don't think it was a spare handkerchief."

"Found it," said Legolas, holding up a piece of parchment between his index finger and his middle finger. Calchas' servant began to stir. Barbossa hit him on the head with the hilt of his sword and the mute slumped back into unconsciousness again. For good measure, he had Ragetti and Pintel bind and gag the man.

Paris unfolded the piece of parchment. As he read it, his face paled with anger. "That traitorous wretch!" he hissed as he squeezed the parchment in his fist, wishing that it was Calchas neck instead. "He's in league with Agamemnon, the ingrate!" He turned to the others. "This is a letter written to inform the Greeks of Hector's impending attack."

"Just as well we intercepted it," said Legolas.

"I'm going to make that bastard pay," said Paris. The quiet and deadly determination in his voice made them all look at him in a new light. This was not the naive boy who had gone out to fight Menelaus. This was a prince of Troy; a most dangerous prince of Troy.

"Paris," said Legolas "maybe it's best if you do not reveal yourself to be the mastermind behind our acts. Calchas is a dangerous man and if he knows what you're doing, he will target you. We need to keep you safe so that you can go about bringing him down."

"Then who is going to represent us?" said Paris.

"I will," said Legolas. "I'm a 'divine messenger', remember?"

"Speaking of divine messengers," said Jack "where is the other divine messenger and the chosen one of the gods?"

"Balian and Will are already down at the beach, with Hector and the rest of the army," said Paris.

"But it's the middle of the night," said Jack. "The attack is scheduled for daybreak, if I recall correctly."

"It is," said Paris. "Balian just thought it might be a good idea to bombard the Greeks during the night and then launch an attack at daybreak. Hector agreed." He looked at the parchment in his hand. Calchas had just given him some very good leverage, as Jack would say.

* * *

Patroclus woke up to the sound of screams, horns and explosions. He snatched up his sword and ran outside, ready to do battle, only to find that he could not see their attackers, let alone fight them. Further up the beach, the Greek camp was burning. The fires stained the night sky a sickly orange. Flaming balls of hemp soaked in oil rampaged through the camp, leaving destructive blazing trails behind them. "Achilles!" he shouted. "Achilles, wake up! The Trojans are burning our camp!"

Moments later, Achilles emerged from his tent, looking decidedly dishevelled and wearing only a light robe to cover his nakedness. Patroclus didn't really want to think about what had been going on behind the thin leather walls of the tent but he could easily guess. "They're not burning _our_ camp," said Achilles, running a hand through his mussed sandy hair. "They're burning Agamemnon's camp. Go back to sleep Patroclus. It's none of our business, unless, or course, that golden warrior appears. Wake me up if you see him, or if they burn our camp." He yawned, like a sleepy lion and went back inside his tent.

Patroclus made to follow Achilles and berate him for his indifference, but in his heart, he knew that it would be useless. Achilles was the most stubborn creature he knew and the great warrior hated Agamemnon with every fibre of his being. The youth could see that the men were restless, longing to fight the war that they had come for. Gods, _he _longed to fight, to win glory, just like Achilles.

_Just like Achilles._

The youth got an idea. Achilles would probably disapprove but he wasn't awake to do so. He sneaked inside Achilles tent and then came out moments later, carrying his cousin's armour, shield and weapons all bundled up in a cloak. Looking around to see that no one saw him, he ran back to his tent and quickly donned Achilles' armour. It was a bit big but it fit him well enough. With the helmet hiding his face, no one would recognize him as not being Achilles anyway.

Patroclus went out of the tent a transformed man. He was no longer just the boy who happened to be Achilles cousin. He _was_ Achilles, Lord of the Myrmidon, at least for the time being. He basked in the men's respect as he motioned for them to prepare for battle. The Trojans were finally advancing, hitting their shields with their spears and making enough noise for an army five times the size of theirs to intimidate the Greeks. The Greeks' nerves had been frayed by the bombardment. It was such a primitive trick, but it worked.

It seemed as if the Trojans were attacking from all sides, driving them into the ocean. At the very front of the Trojan ranks was Hector, flanked by his generals and lieutenants. Two of them looked like foreigners with their strange garb and weapons, but Patroclus knew that neither was the golden warrior which the entire army feared. Nor did they look like the man who accused Menelaus of being a eunuch. No, they were probably just two of the nameless others. The greatest enemy warrior present at this battle would be Hector.

A shout rose amongst the Greek soldiers as Patroclus charged through the ranks. "It's Achilles!" Cheers rang out, fuelling the youth's confidence. He would prove to Achilles that he was worthy of being a Myrmidon. Emboldened by the men's support and his disguise's success, Patroclus ran headlong into the Trojan ranks, knowing that the soldiers would follow his lead. He slashed and cut his way through to Hector, his chosen prey. Today, he was a lion.

The first time their blades met, Patroclus began to regret coming out here to fight Hector. The Trojan Prince was a lot stronger than he had anticipated, and faster too.

A circle formed around the two leading warriors. All watched eagerly as the two mean fought, wanting to see the outcome of the duel. It wasn't a fight between two men. This was a struggle between Troy and Greece. Balian frowned. Something was no quite right. He had fought Achilles once before and he knew how the great warrior moved. Hector's opponent fought a little better than Paris. He attempted to move like Achilles, but he lacked the strength and grace. Hector shoved his opponent backwards and before the other man could react, slit his throat.

* * *

**A/N:** Apologies to anyone who wanted Achilles and Hector to be friends/stay alive. That would be changing history too much and unfortunately, I can't do that. Reviews? Pretty please with a cookie on top? (It sounds more interesting than a cherry, I have to say)


	14. Retribution

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 14:**** Retribution**

Blood bubbled out of the wound as the man fell backwards. He lay there, struggling for breath as he slowly drowned in his own blood. Hector knelt down in the sand beside his fallen adversary and removed the helmet from the dying man's head, revealing the face of a boy; a boy who was even younger than Paris. It wasn't Achilles. The sight shocked all the onlookers. 'Why did you come out here to fight?' Hector demanded silently of the boy. 'Why do I have to be the one who kills you?'He knew that it was the Fates playing tricks on him. The boy looked up at him with desperate pleading eyes, imploring him to end his suffering.

Hector wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword and lifted it slowly as if it was weighed down by the heavy burden of his guilt and sorrow for this needless death. Will could see that his hands were shaking. With and anguished cry, Hector plunged his blade into the boy's chest, putting him to sleep forever. The expression on Hector's face was unreadable, but those who knew him understood how it pained him to have to take the lives of others, especially if those who were not meant to die.

Hector turned to the Greek who resembled Boromir. Balian had learnt that his name was Odysseus. "Enough for today," said the Trojan Prince.

Odysseus nodded. "It was his cousin," he told Hector quietly. Hector didn't say anything but in his heart, he knew the fate that the gods had planned for him. Achilles was not the sort of man to let his cousin's death go without avenging him.

Will knew the reasons behind this retreat, but he also regretted not being able to make the most of this opportunity to defeat the Greeks once and for all. Balian walked in time with the young pirate. "Hector's strengths and weaknesses lie in his honour and compassion," he said. "They are his blessings and his curses."

"You guessed what I was thinking?" said Will.

"You're like an open book, Will Turner," said Balian. "That's why I know I can trust you."

"That's comforting to know," said Will. "That man...Odysseus, he said the boy was someone's cousin..."

"Achilles cousin, I think," said Balian. "Something terrible is about to happen. I can feel it."

* * *

Paris was surprised to hear that Hector had returned so soon. Were to Greeks so incompetent that an army half the size of theirs could defeat them within one morning? If so, why were there no celebrations of the victory? He set off to find his brother and bumped into Balian instead. "Do you know where Hector is?" he asked. "I have something important to tell him. It's about Calchas."

"Maybe it would be best if you waited a bit," said Balian. "Hector's distraught, to say the least. He's just mistook Achilles' cousin for Achilles."

"What happened?" demanded Paris.

"The boy was no match for Hector," said Balian.

"Oh gods," breathed Paris. "Achilles will come after Hector, and then..." The outcome was too terrible to contemplate. "What do we do?"

Balian shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Knowing Hector, he would probably go out and fight if Achilles challenged him."

"And then Calchas will get what he wants," said Paris.

"What do you mean?" asked Balian.

"I must show you something."

"I hope it's nothing bad, Paris. The last time you said that..."

"It's bad, but not for us." Paris unlocked the door to a seldom-used room in his quarters. It was dark inside, and the air smelled of stale old dust. A dark shape cowered in a corner. Paris took a torch from one of the brackets on the wall and approached the figure. It was a man, bound in a cocoon of rope. "Jack and Legolas caught him last night, sneaking away from Calchas' quarters and trying to get out of the city to the Greeks. We found this on him." Paris reached inside his robe and pulled out a piece of parchment. "I'm sure that Calchas wrote this, although he didn't sign it. It was written to inform Agamemnon of this morning's attack, and here, it mentions Hector specifically, asking Agamemnon to target him. I have no doubt that the assassination attempts in Sparta and on the boat were ordered by Calchas as well. Our High Priest is in league with the Greeks, and he wants Hector dead, for one reason or another."

Balian nodded. He had been suspecting this for some time, although he never knew the extent of Calchas' treachery, until now. Hector was the next king of Troy. Plotting to kill him was high treason. "What is your plan of action?" he asked Paris.

"That's why I need to find Hector," said Paris. "I need to tell him about it and then we can devise some way to trap Calchas."

The two of them searched for Hector together. They were joined by Legolas, Will and Barbossa but none of them could find a trace of either Hector or Andromache. It was as if they had vanished. "It's most unlike Hector and Andromache to leave Astyanax all alone," said Paris, his voice tight with concern. "Something must have happened." He was starting to panic when who should appear but Hector, carrying a torch and leading a tearful Andromache.

"Hector?" said Paris softly. "There's something that I need to discuss..."

"Please, Paris," said Hector. "I wish to be able to spend today as a man, and not the Crown Prince of Troy." It sounded so much like a plea that Paris was stunned. He'd never seen his brother so vulnerable before, and it frightened him.

Hector brushed past his brother. Andromache followed him. The prince knew he did not have very much time left and for once, he wanted to live as a civilian did, without the weight of the hopes of an entire nation resting on his shoulders. Back in his quarters, the golden morning sunlight streamed through the windows, contrasting with his melancholic mood. Astyanax was awake and gurgling, delighted with life. The baby waved his tiny hands and kicked his fat little legs, relishing in his limbs' growing strength. Hector's heart filled with love and pity for his child. It would be difficult for the little boy, growing up in his father's shadow. The rough world would soon strip this innocence away and replace it with pain and bitterness. The prince wished with all his heart that he could have given his son a better life, instead of casting him into the sea of suffering. He reached into the cradle and picked up the baby, his own flesh and blood.

Andromache came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around her husband, resting her chin on his shoulder. Outside, Apollo drove his fiery chariot across the sky and waves from the calm blue sea lapped the Greek-infested beach.

* * *

That night, Helen woke to find an empty space beside her. Outside, she could hear the sound of arrows flying through the air and hitting something. Who was practising archery at this time of the night? She got up and went to the window. The night breeze raised goose pimples on her pale skin. Paris was turning a straw dummy into a pin cushion. There was so much hate and anger in his eyes that it frightened her. This was not her Paris. Breathing as quietly as she could so as to not disturb him, she padded back to the bed and lay wide awake, listening to the sound of arrows hitting the straw dummy and being pulled out again.

* * *

Balian woke up before dawn, drenched in sweat. The bedclothes had knotted themselves around him as he had twisted and turned in his fitful sleep. No wonder he dreamed he was being strangled. The dreams were many and fleeting, and he hardly remembered them, except for a familiar voice calling his name. A sense of dread and finality had settled in his stomach. He gave up trying to fall asleep again and threw on his clothes. Usually, wearing the sword of Ibelin comforted him and gave him strength, but not this day.

* * *

Achilles was ready. On the road to Hades, Patroclus would soon have Hector for company, except the lord of the Myrmidon never intended for Hector to reach Hades. He pulled on his greaves. Patroclus had worn them when he had died. "I'll strike him down for you, little cousin," he whispered. "He will pay for what he's done."

* * *

Hector looked down at the peacefully sleeping Astyanax. The baby's thumb was in his mouth and his other hand clutched the wooden lion that his father had made for him. "Goodbye, my little one," he whispered. The sun had risen. Soon, the lion would be here for his prey. The prince needed to get ready. He ran his hands over the contours of his armour. He'd worn it so many times without thinking about it. It was easily the best armour in all of Troy, made of many bronze plates sewn together by the finest craftsmen. He'd never appreciated its beauty before.

Now that he could see his end drawing near, everything seemed more beautiful. His Andromache, lying curled up with her hair loose, had never looked lovelier. The sea was bluer than he'd ever seen it before and even the sun seemed brighter. There was every reason to live.

He donned his armour, remembering every inch of the smooth metal. When he picked up his shield, he was tempted to look back at his sleeping wife and child, but he knew that the sight of them would quell his will to fight. He fought back the temptation and strode out into the sun. The prince could almost hear the souls of the dead whispering to him on the wind. "Welcome, brother," they said.

Outside the walls of Troy, a lone chariot came to a halt. A warrior stepped out. Moments later, a single word rang out across the beach and through the city, repeating itself over and over again.

_Hector.

* * *

_

"Legolas! Balian!" shouted Will, running to catch up with the other two. They stopped and turned. "We have to stop this. Hector can't fight Achilles. He'll be killed and Troy will be left without a leader capable of defending it!"

"What can we do?" said Balian. "Andromache has tried convincing him. I've tried convincing him. Legolas has tried convincing him. He won't listen to any of us. Men like Hector hold their honour dearer than their lives. Nothing short of drugging him can stop him from going out to fight Achilles."

"You can't _drug_ the Crown Prince of Troy," said Legolas. "That's treason by any standards and he'll hate you for it."

"Do you think Paris might do it?" said Will. Before anyone could answer, Jack was shouting at them.

"Oi! Everyone's on the walls!" said Jack. The other three stopped their conversation and ran to join the court, reaching there just in time to see Priam give Hector his blessings. They took their places beside Paris and Aeneas. The Crown Prince went to his younger brother and friends. Paris' handsome features were etched with pain.

"You're the best man I've ever known," said Paris, embracing his brother.

"I know you'll make me proud," said Hector. Paris swallowed and nodded. The Crown Prince turned to Aeneas and the foreigners. None of them knew what to say. Hector placed one hand on Paris' shoulder and another hand on the shoulder of the person who stood at his other side, which happened to be Jack. "I want you all to take care and be as brothers to each other," he said. "The safety of Troy, I entrust to you all. Aeneas and Balian, I want you two to take over command of the defences. The troops trust Aeneas and Balian is experienced in such matters. The rest of you will help and advise them. " He looked at each and every one of them. "No man could have had better friends. I'm proud to have been able to call you my brothers." He embraced each of them in turn, even Jack and Barbossa. When he got to Balian, he leaned towards the younger man's ear. "You have had a family, as I do now. Look after my wife and child as if they are your own. Don't let them come to harm."

"You have my word, Hector," said Balian, and then in a lower voice, he added "you don't need to fight him. Your duty is first and foremost to your people. You will be doing no wrong if you stay alive to protect them."

"A man must answer for his actions," said Hector. "Surely you must understand this, as a man of honour."

"Sometimes, one must do a little evil in order to do a greater good," insisted Balian, using the words which Sibylla had once said to him.

"Troy will be protected," said Hector, putting on his helmet. Legolas watched him go, having heard everything that had been said. The elf looked back at his friends and met Balian's gaze. He knew that the blacksmith was thinking the same thing. Valar, why did Hector have to be so stubborn?

* * *

Paris knew it was his fault as Achilles delivered the killing stroke, plunging his blade into Hector's kind and generous heart. The younger prince felt the blow as keenly as if Achilles had driven the blade into his heart. His refuge, his brother, the great stone pillar which gave him support, was gone. Hector's burden had passed onto him and Paris had never thought that it would be so heavy. Achilles looked up at the tall walls of Tory and locked gazes with Paris. The younger prince felt hatred for this man build up inside him. He would remember that face forever; the face of the man who had killed his beloved brother in cold blood.

The lord of the Myrmidon tied a rope around Hector's ankles and then tied the rope to his chariot. He drove in front of Troy, dragging Hector's body in the sand as the dead man's friends and family watched and leaving a trail of blood. Legolas' hand flew to the arrows in his quiver while Jack, Will and Barbossa fumbled for their pistols, all of them wanting to kill this arrogant animal. And then they remembered Hector's honour. The late prince of Troy would not have wanted them to do such a thing.

Paris gripped the wall so tightly that the pattern of the rock was ingrained into the flesh of his hands. As he watched the Greek defile his brother's lifeless body, he made a promise. 'By the gods on Olympus and in Hades, I swear I will spill your blood to appease my brother's spirit, Achilles," he thought. 'I will shame you in death as you have shamed him.'

* * *

**A/N: **This is getting much angstier than I thought it would be. Reviews? Pretty please? With a cookie on top?


	15. Games of Power

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Jack, Will, Hector, Paris...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 15: Games of Power**

In the abandoned weapons storage room which had become their private meeting place, Aeneas, Balian, Barbossa, Legolas, Will, even Jack, sat in brooding silence. The atmosphere was sombre as they nursed their own thoughts. Hope seemed to have died with Hector, and they all felt his absence keenly. "What do we do now?" said Will. "The defender of Troy is gone and with him, any chance of victory over the Greeks."

"We will do as he wished," said Balian bluntly. "Aeneas will take up Hector's position in the army. We will all aid him and protect Troy to the best of our ability."

Paris did not utter a single word as the others discussed the defences. In his mind, he relived his memories of Hector. Ever since they had been boys, Hector had always been there to protect and look after Paris. He had been Paris' refuge and the younger prince could not remember a single moment when Hector had not been there. A ghost of a smile flickered across the prince's face as he remembered the day when he had thought it would have been a good idea to ride the King's horse out of the city when Priam had had a hunt scheduled. The horse had bolted and Paris had run to Hector, begging his brother to help him. Hector had spent the entire day tracking down the errant horse, and when their father had questioned the two boys, Hector had lied and said that he had been the one who had taken the horse. To this day, Priam still did not know that he had beaten the wrong son over the incident. And now, Hector was gone, taking even that little secret to the underworld.

Paris slammed his fist into his palm. "I won't let that two-headed snake Calchas rejoice at my brother's death," he said suddenly. Everyone turned to look at him. "Hector may be gone, but his legacy lives on in his family, in us; in Troy. Calchas doesn't have to deal with him anymore, but he has to deal with me now. He has to deal with all of us!"

"I'm with you, Paris," said Balian fiercely.

"As am I," said Legolas.

"Count me in," said Will.

"I'm on your side, Paris, and I give you my full mental support," said Jack. Barbossa took a swipe at him, almost dislodging Jack the monkey. The monkey screeched and the pirate ducked.

"Just say the word, Prince Paris," said Barbossa. "Prince Hector was a good man who didn't deserve what he got. We will not let his death be in vain."

"We need an audience with the King," said Paris. "Calchas must be present and I would prefer it if the entire court can be there as well. It's time to apply force to the leverage."

* * *

It was evening when Paris and his company marched to find Priam, but the old king had disappeared, seemingly without a trace. The prince almost growled in frustration. "But you must have some idea," he said to Priam's bodyguard.

"If I did, my prince, I would be with the king," said the man. Paris was about to rant some more when the heralds took up the call.

"The King!" they cried. "The King!"

Everyone rushed outside to greet Priam, and they were all surprised by what they saw. Priam had stripped himself of all trappings of royalty. He wore a dark cloak, like any old man and he was driving a chariot with a large bundle strapped to the back. A girl stood next to him, wearing a very tattered shapeless brown dress and still recovering from the rough treatment she had received at the hands of the enemy. "Briseis?" whispered Paris. How could it be possible? He stepped up to her side of the chariot and helped her out. Close up, the cloth wrapped bundle in the back looked very much like a man. "Father..." said Paris in a strangled voice as he realized what was truly wrapped up in that sand-covered cloth. A large painful lump formed in his throat and stopped his speech.

"Hector has come home," said Priam with tears in his rheumy eyes.

* * *

The priests washed Hector's stiff body in warm sacred water. The water's heat made the dead man's limbs pliable again, as if he was merely asleep. Calchas looked down at the lifeless prince and smiled in satisfaction. At last, things were starting to go as he had planned. Now he could put the hapless Paris on the throne after Priam's death and then Calchas would be king in all but name.

* * *

An aura of sadness settled over the city as Hector's still form was carried from the temple and placed on a tall pyre outside. Women wept quietly and some of the smaller children threw flowers onto the pyre. The prince was wrapped in purple and gold silk; the colours of royalty. Silence gripped all the onlookers as Priam and Paris ascended the pyre with flaming torches in their hands. The king placed two coins over his son's closed eyes. He and Paris touched the wood at Hector's head and feet respectively with their torches and then let them drop. They descended from the pyre as the wood caught fire and Hector was hidden from their sight by a veil of flames.

Balian closed his eyes and sent a swift prayer up to his own God, asking Him to admit the prince's generous soul into Heaven. No one deserved Paradise more than Hector.

For once in his life, Jack Sparrow was speechless. Grief was very much an alien feeling to him, although he did remember crying at his mother's death when he had been barely old enough to have memories. He and Hector had not been particularly close. It had been obvious that the honourable prince could barely tolerate the equally dishonourable pirate. But Jack respected Hector for his courage. Such a noble man did not exist amongst pirates. Not even Will Turner was as pure. 'I hope you have a better time than I did,' thought Jack. 'It ain't fun when you have to fight with yourself over a single peanut.'

The funeral games for celebrating Hector's life began when the fire died out and the ashes —all that remained of the once glorious horse-tamer— were collected and put into an urn. Paris felt no desire to partake in or even just watch the games. His brother's death was a matter for tears, not sports. He retreated back to the abandoned weapons storage room, and was quickly joined by the others. Somehow, Cassandra, Helen and Andromache found the men in there, sharing drinks —courtesy of Jack— and honouring Hector's memory in their own private ceremony. They joined the sombre company. Jack refilled his cup and raised it in a toast. "To Hector, Prince of Troy," he said. "May his legacy live on forever!" He put the cup to his lips and drank deeply. The others followed his lead and quickly down their drinks. Paris told them the story of Priam's horse and Hector's part in it.

"He was always doing that; protecting others," said Paris "and now..." his voice broke. "I miss him so much."

Andromache wiped the tears away from her face with the heel of her hand. To her right, Helen cradled the sleeping Astyanax who was quite unaware of what was going on. "He was my world," said the prince's widow in a whisper. "When I first married him, I hated him for taking me away from my family but then I saw what a wonderful man he was and I started to love him without realizing it. All those years we had...they were far too short...I wish..." She took a deep breath, and Aeneas squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort her.

"We all feel lost without him," said Aeneas. "With Hector gone, we have no hope, even though he entrusted the safety of Troy to us. We cannot hope to save the city without her prince. Troy is ruined."

"That's not true," interjected Cassandra. Everyone turned to her in surprise. For once, she was not taking delight in prophesising death and doom. She looked at the foreigners, and her gaze lingered on Balian. "The gods have interfered to ensure that we have a chance for victory."

"Don't be silly, Cassandra," said Aeneas tiredly. "The gods don't care about the affairs of men."

"That's what you think," said Cassandra with an air of certainty "but I know for sure that some gods do care." She looked so confident that the others couldn't help but feel encouraged by her words, although they did not understand the entire meaning.

"We've got the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, an undead monkey and the best shooter in the world," said Jack. "That has to count for something."

"And I will defend Troy and all that Hector held dear to the best of my ability," said Balian.

"Aye!" said Will and Barbossa together.

"We will all keep our promises to Hector," said Legolas. "He deserves that much at least."

"May the gods save those who oppose us, because no one else can," said Paris with a wicked gleam in his eye.

Legolas recognized that look on Paris' face. "What are you thinking about?" he asked. "Do you have a plan?"

"Of course I have a plan; the one we still haven't carried out." Paris stood and straightened his robes. "I have a little score to settle with our friend Calchas. This time, nothing —and I mean nothing— will stop me."

* * *

Priam was surprised when Paris requested an audience with him and asked him to summon the entire court. This was a most unusual move for his younger son who cared little for the affairs of state. The old king was worried that Paris' grief might have addled his mind.

The entire court gathered, although Balian and that old sailor Barbossa were missing."My son," said Priam. "What is so urgent that you ask me to summon the court during this period of mourning? Surely, whatever it is, it can wait?" Paris did not answer. Instead, it was Legolas who spoke.

"Your Majesty," he said, getting to his feet. "It was I who, through the prince, asked you to summon the court. There is something you must see." The elven prince clapped his hands twice. Balian and Barbossa came out from one of the side entrances, dragging a bound man with them. Calchas started and paled. That was his servant. How had he fallen into the hands of the divine ones who had also been amongst Hector's closest friends?

"We caught him trying to sneak out to the Greek camp the night before Prince Hector attacked it," said Legolas. "We found this on him." From the folds of his robes, he produced a folded sheet of parchment. With two hands, he presented it to the king. Priam took it. His hands shook with anger as he read it. Calchas was drenched in cold sweat and Paris noted the High Priest's reaction with some satisfaction.

"Who wrote this?" demanded the king. "Who does this traitor work for?"

"That, I do not know," said Legolas. Calchas relaxed a little, thinking that he was safe. "However," continued the elf "I thought you might recognize the writing and maybe it would interest Your Majesty that this man was caught sneaking out from the High Priest's quarters."

"You have no proof of that!" said Calchas, losing control over himself and leaping to his feet. He was shaking slightly, either from anger or from fear. "Where is the evidence that he works for me? Under the fear of death, a man will admit to anything!"

"I was merely stating the facts," said Legolas calmly. "I do not wish to point my finger at anyone. There were only two witnesses; Captain Sparrow and myself. There is no need to overreact to this circumstantial evidence, my lord Calchas. After all, you have nothing to hide, do you?"

"Has the man told you nothing?" said Priam.

"No, Your Majesty," said Legolas. "Whoever wrote this letter was cunning enough to use a mute, but I do not doubt that he can point out the traitor if he can see his employer. In this game, he is merely a pawn, and not to be blamed." He turned to the man. "Don't you agree?"

The mute nodded emphatically. He was absolutely terrified of his captors, especially the one who glowed in the dark and the one who could walk through walls.

"If you point out the traitor, your life will be spared," said Priam. The prisoner's hands were untied and he immediately pointed at the High Priest.

"The man lies!" said Calchas. "Why, I have not even seen him before! A man will do anything to survive. He points to me only because the...the divine one implied that he suspected me! I swear that I am loyal to Troy and to you, my liege!" He fell onto his knees before the king and prostrated himself. For once, Priam seemed to doubt his old friend.

"Is what you say true?" the king asked.

"May the gods strike me down if I ever betray you!" cried the High Priest.

Priam wavered, and then he spoke. "The gods are just," he said. He turned to the mute. "Take him away and execute him, then put his head on a stake. Obviously, he isn't going to tell us the truth. The High Priest has been my loyal friend for many years and he has no reason to betray Troy."

The guards dragged the struggling mute away. Paris glanced at his fathers. This first endeavour to overthrow Calchas might not have been entirely successful but it was no failure. The seed of doubt had been sown in Priam's mind. Now they just had to nurture it carefully to ensure that it bore fruit.

* * *

Odysseus sat with his soldiers around a crackling campfire, thinking. Troy's stalwart defender, Hector, was gone, but the Greeks still could not bypass the Trojans' high walls, not without the proper equipment, which was something that they lacked. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Beside him, a man was whittling away at a piece of driftwood, carving a small wooden horse. Odysseus glanced at the figurine, and an idea was born. "It's good," he told the man. The man looked up in surprise and smiled.

"It's for my son, back home," he said, blushing.

"You miss him, don't you?" said Odysseus. The man nodded.

"He'll be two by now, and talking most likely," he said. "I haven't even heard him call me 'Papa'..."

"I miss my wife and son too," said Odysseus, clapping the man on the shoulder. He stood up. "That little horse won't carry us home, but I have a feeling that a bigger one might." The king of Ithaca looked around at the wrecked galleys, courtesy of the late Hector. "Come on, men," he said. "On your feet! We have work to do. I am going to get us home."

* * *

As Achilles had promised, no Greek attacked for the duration of Hector's funeral games, giving the mourning Trojans a welcome reprieve. A report came in on the twelfth day; the Greeks were gone, leaving nothing but a few corpses on the stretch of beach that they had occupied, and something else. Curious, Priam, a few priests and noblemen, Paris, Aeneas, and their friends went out to inspect the abandoned Greek camp.

"Plague," said Calchas, probing a corpse with his feet. He knew that this was not why the Greeks had left. Agamemnon had sent him a message a few days ago, telling him of their plans. The High Priest understood perfectly well that the Greek ships were hiding behind an offshore island like a lurking snake, waiting for the right time to strike. And when Troy did fall, Calchas would be left as its governor, subject only to the High King himself. "The Greeks have been given their just reward. They came here, thinking they could sack our city in a day, and now, they flee like whipped dogs. The gods are indeed just."

Priam smiled for the first time in many days. He was pleased by the High Priest's words. He moved on to inspect the giant horse which towered over them, casting a dark shadow on the Trojan beach.

As soon as Balian laid eyes on the wooden leviathan, he was filled with a sense of unease. "I've seen it before," he whispered to his companions "in Lady Galadriel's mirror, right before I saw Troy burn."

Paris turned to stare at him with piercing brown eyes. The prince nodded. He trusted Balian's judgement. Nearby, the king and the priests were discussing the horse and its purpose. "It is a gift which they have left for Poseidon, praying for a safe passage across the Aegean," said Calchas. "We should take it to the god's temple."

"I think we should burn it," said Paris.

As soon as the words left Paris' mouth, Calchas looked at him in disbelief and saw for the first time the lethal intelligence that lurked behind the handsome young face. He met Paris' gaze and saw the fierce hatred that burned in the brown orbs. There was a calculating cunning in the prince's face which had not been there before. Was it possible that Paris, of all people, could see through the Greeks' tricks? "My prince," he said. This is a gift! We cannot burn it, for that would bring down the wrath of Poseidon. We should take it to his temple."

Paris glared at him. "Father," said the prince firmly. "Burn it."

With these three words, Calchas finally understood that his adept adversary was not Legolas. Neither was it Will Turner nor Balian and it certainly was not one of the other foreigners.

It was Paris.

* * *

**A/N: **Now what are they going to do? Paris isn't just going to stand there and let Calchas do what he wants, nor will the others. Brilliant ideas await...we have the best pranksters and strategists after all. Please review! Pretty please with virtual cookies on top? 


	16. Burn It Down!

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 16: Burn It Down!**

Despite Paris' warnings, the horse was towed through the gates of Troy, and was greeted with much jubilation. The Greeks were gone and at last, life could return to normal. Paris watched the horse's procession through the streets from his balcony with dread and disgust growing inside him and entwining themselves around his heart, like vines which strangled trees. "Look at them," he said to Helen who was sitting beside him, with a crown of golden leaves on her head. "You'd think that their prince had never died." The bitterness of Hector's death still lingered at the back of his throat. If it hadn't been for his affair, the war would never have started, and Hector wouldn't have fallen, leaving Andromache a widow and little Astyanax an orphan. Helen saw the guilt on Paris' face and she placed her hand on his bare arm to offer what consolation she could.

"You're their prince now," she said. "Make your brother proud."

Paris turned to the woman whom he loved, hating himself for ever regretting bringing her to Troy. She was someone upon whom he could trust to give him support and turn him into a better man; a man like Hector. He leaned over to kiss her cheek. "I will, Helen," he said before getting up to search for his comrades. He found them on the wall, discussing the problem of the wooden horse.

"We have to destroy it," Balian was saying. "I don't care how."

"Well, that is a very good question," said Will. "How are we going to destroy it? We can't just rush in and burn it! We'll be cut to pieces before we even get near. You know how superstitious they are."

"We owe it to Hector to at least try!" said Legolas. "Balian's vision tells me that it will bring nothing but ill-fortune to Troy!"

"Balian and Legolas are right," said Paris, interrupting them and startling his friends. "It must be destroyed and I am willing to bear the responsibility if retribution is dealt out."

"Nay, Paris, you are the Crown Prince of Troy now," said Legolas. "Your people need you."

"What prince will I be if I cannot even protect my country?" said Paris.

"I do not fear death," said Legolas.

"Neither do I," said Balian. "I am willing to take full responsibility if the king should lay the blame on us."

"I shall share the burden with you, my friend," said Legolas.

Will sighed. "You know I'll support whatever course of action you decide to take," he said.

"This is stupid," said Jack "but to the Locker with it all! I've been called stupid, even mad, although I don't understand why. Count me in!"

"Jack Sparrow won't be doin' anythin' without me supervising 'im," said Barbossa. "So what's the plan?"

* * *

The heat inside the dark cavernous belly of the horse was stifling. Achilles could hear singing and prayers of thanksgiving coming from outside, and he wondered if Briseis was among the revellers. He pitied the Trojans, for they had unknowingly brought death into their midst, and they welcomed it with open arms. The Greeks stayed quiet, not daring even to move or breathe too loudly, in case they alerted the enemy. A bead of sweat rolled down Achilles' face. By now, Eudoras should have set sail, taking the Myrmidon home. They could stop being lions and become the men they had meant to be when their mothers had brought them into this painful world. 

And Achilles, he had made his choice. He would take Briseis far away from these killing fields and back to his homeland of Epirus. 'You were wrong, Mother,' he thought. 'I did not find glory in Troy, but I did find that wonderful woman you were talking about.'

* * *

Paris thought long and hard about their situation while the sun slowly began to make its descent towards the western horizon. "We can't get close enough to burn the thing," he said "so we somehow need to burn it from a distance, with fire arrows or..." 

"Trebuchet!" said Balian suddenly, remembering the one piece of siege equipment in Troy.

"What's a _tre-boo-shay_?" said Paris.

"Trebuchet," said Balian, correcting the prince's pronunciation. "It's a catapult. I can use that to fling oil and alcohol onto the horse and then someone can shoot burning arrows at it. That way, we can make sure that the flames can't be put out."

"I'll shoot the arrows," said Legolas.

"As will I," said Paris.

"And gunshots can ignite pretty damn good fires, eh, Will?" said Jack. "One thing though, mate. I'm not givin' up me drinks."

"You do know that this will be considered sacrilege, right?" said Paris. "If we're caught, I highly doubt we'll survive."

Balian grinned. "For Hector," he said. Legolas nodded in agreement.

"Yes," he said. "For Hector, we'll do anything."

"Aye!" said the others. Jack the monkey chirped his assent.

Paris smiled gratefully at all of them. "My brothers," he said. "There is no greater honour than the live, fight, and die with you."

"Hang on," said Jack. "Let's leave the last part till much later, shall we?"

* * *

From her window, Cassandra could see a very strange sight. Balian and his friends were loading heavy earthen jars onto Balian's strange machine. She went out to get a closer look. Balian caught sight of her. He wiped his hands on his shirt and approached the princess, bowing. 

"What are you doing?' she asked him, nodding at his machine.

"Committing sacrilege," he replied with complete seriousness. With sweat gleaming on his face, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen, and he had wit. What more could a woman want? She smiled.

"You are destined to save Troy," she said. "I can feel it in my heart. The gods have sent you."

"I doubt that," he said with a smile. "I am only doing my duty, milady."

"Please, call me Cassandra. Hector called you his brother, and thus you are my brother also, in all but blood." In truth, she wanted much more than a brother in Balian. She wanted him.

"Cassandra," said Balian. His voice and strange lilting accent made her name sound beautiful, like the notes of a lyre, at least to her. "You won't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"About what?" asked Cassandra. She walked away. Her heart was beating violently. She was in love, of that she was certain. It felt wrong to be feeling such passion so soon after her brother's death.

'What do you think, Hector?' she wondered. In her mind, she thought she could see her brother smile in approval.

Balian shook his head and went back to his task. There was no doubt that Cassandra was related to Paris, although they hardly bore any resemblance to the late Hector. He adjusted the trebuchet. The load was quite big, but he was sure that his machine would manage. With some help from Will, he aimed it at the Wooden Horse. "Fire!" he shouted. Ragetti and Pintel hit the trigger with all the strength they could muster and the jars flew into the air, soaring towards the wooden leviathan. They smashed on the horse's body and splashed all over it. This was the signal that Legolas, Paris, Jack and Barbossa had been waiting for. Legolas shot three burning projectiles at the same time, and Paris launched his own blazing arrow. Gunshots rang out across Troy. Before the onlookers could recover, flames engulfed the horse and spread until there was no way to put it out.

* * *

"Get out!" screamed Odysseus as he saw the orange glow of flames through slits in the wood. He didn't care if the Trojans found them. Anything would be better than being roasted alive. The men scrambled to open the hatches. They jumped out, landing painfully on the hard ground or on top of one another. Once they had gotten over their initial surprise, Trojan soldiers surrounded them. Odysseus' plan had failed. 

Calchas was terrified. What if Priam guessed that he had brought the Greeks into Troy deliberately? No doubt Paris was behind this. He had to improvise and save his life first before he could do anything else to secure his power. "What is the meaning of this?" he screamed. "You vile Greeks, trying to trick us into letting you into our city? Apollo protects us! He shot these arrows of fire! He will never let Troy fall!"

Achilles' first instinct was to fight, but then he thought better of it and lowered his blade warily. Priam was an honourable man, and the Greek warrior had not come here to kill. He wanted to see his Briseis and dying before he could do so would ruin his plan. Besides, he could see the golden warrior, flanked by the stubborn Balian and the man with the immortal monkey. Achilles might have longed for glory, but he was no simpleton. It would have been suicide to try and fight all of these warriors and the Trojan soldiers together.

At the Trojan king's command, Achilles laid down his weapon like the rest of the Greeks and submitted to capture. He wondered which Trojan had been intelligent enough to see through Odysseus' plan.

Paris pushed through the crowd, still clutching his bow and arrows. Hatred burned in his heart. _Achilles_. How dare that cold-blooded killer show his face in Troy, after what he had done to Hector? He put an arrow to the string and made to shoot Achilles there and then, just as he had practised, but Priam stopped him in time. "Achilles is a man of honour," said the old man. "No son of mine will shoot an unarmed man."

"But Father..." began Paris. He felt a hand on his arm and he turned to find himself staring into the wise blue eyes of Legolas.

"Hector would not have wanted you to kill him like this," said the elf. "Your father is right. There is no honour in shooting an unarmed man."

The prince did not respond. The glare which he directed at Achilles was so full of hatred that the onlookers would not have been surprised if the Greek had been incinerated there and then, like the wooden horse in the background. Paris stormed off. Balian looked at Legolas. An unspoken message passed between them. The blacksmith nodded and then made to follow the prince, knowing that Paris, being an angry young man, would need some way to release his pent up frustration.

* * *

Achilles sat in his dark cell, pondering his situation. He knew that Priam would not kill him but Paris was another story. The angry young man who had tried to shoot him was nothing like the Paris whom he had heard of. He couldn't imagine him running away from a fight, much less crawling in the sand to cower at Hector's feet. The youth he had seen that day could not have been the same man. 

How was he going to see Briseis now? As a lady of royal descent, he doubted that she would come down to the dungeons to see her captured Greek lover. She wouldn't be allowed. 'This is Briseis,' he reminded himself 'the girl who fought and threw a washcloth at the Great Achilles.' If Briseis wanted to do something, nothing would stop her. Before that thought was out of his head, he heard a surprised stammer from one of the guards. "My lady...what are you doing here?' he said.

"It is not in your place to ask, soldier," replied Briseis' voice curtly. Within moments, she stood before his cell, peering in through the bars. Eagerly, he approached her. She extended her hand to him. He took it in his own hands and kissed her palm tenderly, murmuring her name over and over again against her soft skin.

"Oh, Achilles," she whispered. "Why have you come? It is not safe for you here. My cousin, he is furious. His desire to avenge Hector has entwined itself around his very bones like bonds of fire, burning him. He thirsts for your blood. His friend Balian tired to speak with him, to calm him down and make him see reason, but he will not listen. I know that he will not cease until he has your head on a spike."

"I care not for life if I cannot have you with me," said Achilles. "Men are foolish in love. I can finally see why your cousin risked Troy's ruin so he could be with Helen."

"Men are indeed foolish in love. I see no other reason to explain your walking into the jaws of death."

They stayed like this for a while, content to be with each other, until the guard told Briseis that she ought to leave.

Someone was coming.

* * *

Balian almost had to run to keep up with Paris and the prince charged down to the dungeons. A guard opened his mouth to ask the prince what he was doing here but he shut it when he saw the dark expression on Paris' face. He looked as if he could break someone's neck with his bare hands. "Paris, wait," called Balian, catching up with the younger man. "I know you're grieving for Hector; we all are, but Hector would not have wanted you to do anything dishonourable or stupid..." 

"So avenging my brother is stupid and dishonourable, is it?" demanded Paris. "Well, let me tell you something, Balian of Ibelin, the Perfect Knight: To Hell with honour! Honour killed Hector, as surely as Achilles' sword did! This is war! There is no place for integrity! He is the enemy!"

Balian swallowed his frustration and hurt. "Paris, I didn't mean..." he began, but the younger man was not paying any attention to him. They had stopped in front of Achilles' cell.

"You listen to me, Greek," snarled Paris. His voice was laced with bitter and burning hatred. "You listen to me very carefully. I don't care how I do it; I don't care what it takes; I will see your blood staining the sand as my brother's blood did. Troy will not permit the man who killed her prince to live, I swear to the gods."

"Do you have what it takes to kill a man, Prince?" said Achilles mockingly. "Can you fight like a man, without using tricks or having someone to watch your back? If you can, I'll gladly let you attempt to kill me but be warned; I am Achilles of Epirus and I won't go easily."

Paris took a step forward and pressed his face close to the bars. He was clutching them so tightly that his knuckles were white. Achilles gave him a smile that was almost a sneer. The younger prince was tempted to go into the cell and fight the arrogant killer, but he could see the truth of the Greek's words. He could not fight like a true warrior, because he was no warrior. With a low growl of frustration, he whipped around and pushed past Balian, storming out of the dungeons and leaving the blacksmith alone with a man whose neck he was tempted to break.

"Don't you hate me?" Achilles asked him. Paris' character was easy to decipher, but this man confused him.

"I do," said Balian shortly.

"And are you not tempted to kill me now?"

"I would not sacrifice my honour for your sake," said Balian. He strode off to follow Paris.

Achilles watched his retreating back. His respect for this blunt and stubborn man grew. If Balian had been a king, Achilles knew that he would've gladly fought for him.

* * *

**A/N: **The sack of Troy next. I have a few surprises up my sleeve ;) Reviews please? (puppy eyes) 


	17. Of Treachery and Honour

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Jack, Will, Paris, Hector etc... You get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 17: Of Treachery and Honour**

Balian thought no more of his strange conversation with Achilles. There were more important things which needed attending to. He found Paris in the courtyard where they had tried to teach him swordplay. The prince was leaning against a tall fluted pillar, with his forehead against the stone. His face was wet with angry tears. "I'm not worthy of being a prince," he said. "He was right there...my brother's killer...he was taunting me, and I could do nothing. "

"It would've been worse if you did do something," said Balian. "He would have killed you. Self-knowledge is a virtue, Paris."

"How can I make Hector proud if I can't even avenge him? I wish I was more like him, or you, Balian. You're both honourable men and great warriors. You're both so brave and I... I'm useless."

"Just because you can't use a sword doesn't mean you're useless." Balian put a comforting hand on Paris' arm. "Without you, I would've been burnt to death, and Calchas would be even more powerful than he is now."

"But if it wasn't for my selfishness and stupidity, Greece would not have attacked us and Hector would not have been killed. I'm a coward in every sense of the word, Balian. It should've been me who died, not Hector."

"You're not a coward, Paris. It takes great courage to admit your own flaws, and I know that Hector is proud of you for everything that you've done to protect Troy."

"You sound like him, Balian. It's as if Hector is speaking with your voice. I'm glad you're here, and I'm sorry for shouting at you back there. You didn't deserve it. Please forgive me."

"It is forgiven, Paris."

* * *

Calchas went down to the dungeons and replaced the guards with his own men. The High Priest knew that he could not let Paris take over Troy. The boy would eliminate him before he could so much as curse him. He stopped before Odysseus' cell. "You, Ithacan!" he hissed, producing some keys. Odysseus looked up at him with a confused expression. Calchas unlocked the door. "Go and do what you came to do. Just tell Agamemnon that I helped him to take Troy, and that I want to act as its governor, subject only to the High King. That was our deal." 

Odysseus walked out in a daze. Troy really was a rotten tree if it had worms such as Calchas gnawing at its heartwood. Calchas freed every other Greek captive. Achilles was the last. He brushed past the High Priest. "If I was Agamemnon, I'd kill you as soon as Troy falls," said the lord of Epirus.

"Then I should count it among my blessings that you are, in fact, not King Agamemnon," said Calchas smoothly. Achilles glared at him and ran off into the darkness, trying to locate Briseis in this labyrinth of streets. He took a sword from a drunken Trojan soldier. The man did not even wake.

* * *

Legolas woke to the sound of battle. He was instantly alert. Troy was glowing in the unhealthy orange of flames. The elf snatched up his weapons and then hammered on both his walls to wake his neighbours, Balian and Jack. He rushed out of the room and collided with Will. "Where are the others?" shouted the young pirate. 

"Right here," said Balian from behind Will.

"Wot in the locker is going on?" demanded Pintel.

"The walls have been breached," said Balian. "Find everyone and get them out of Troy!"

"How did they even breach the walls?" said Jack as they ran to find the royal family. "The Greeks ain't got no siege ladders."

"The gates have been opened," said Legolas. The fires gave him enough light to see everything clearly.

"Must be Calchas' doing," said Balian, barging into Hector's old quarters without knocking. "Lady Andromache! We have to get out!"

Andromache whipped around in surprise, clutching her baby to her breast. She looked decidedly relieved when she saw her late husband's friends. "Follow me," she said. "I know a secret way out. Hector showed me."

"Where's Paris and Helen..." began Will, but he had not need to finish his question when Paris bumped into him with Helen on his heels. The prince was wearing his armour. On his back, he carried a quiver of arrows. He held a bow and the Sword of Troy was strapped to his belt.

"Come on," said Legolas. "Lady Andromache knows the way."

"Follow me!" said Andromache. "We need to find the King and Queen, and all the princesses!"

"You go ahead," said Paris. "I know the secret way. I'll go and find my family, and then I'll bring them with me."

"Paris," began Helen "they're burning the city to the ground! I don't want to have to lose you."

"How can you love me if I ran now?" said Paris. "We will be together again, in this life or the next." His voice was full of conviction. Nothing would stop him now. Helen tried to hold on to him but he pushed her firmly in Andromache's direction. "Look after her," he told his friends, and then he disappeared into the chaos. Leading their ragged group, Andromache came to the path under the city. Barbossa kicked open the door in his haste and they all rushed through. Balian, Legolas and Will looked at each other. Unspoken understanding passed between them and they turned to retrace their steps. They had promised Hector that they would protect Troy. Jack, who was at the rear, was shoved aside. "Don't do anything stupid!" he shouted after them, and then he remembered the riches of Troy. It was such a waste to leave it all behind for those nasty Greeks. "Hey! Wait for me!" He too went back to the city, although his reasons were entirely different from theirs.

* * *

Achilles ran, although he did not really know where he was running to. _Find Briseis. _That was all he could think about. Troy was a larger city than he had initially thought. Screams rent the air. "Briseis!" he shouted, as if she could hear him wherever she was. A group of maidens ran past him; their faces were wet with tears of terror. None of them were Briseis. Trojan soldiers tried their best to put up a final struggle worthy of remembrance in the bards' tales and songs, but their resistance was futile. They were not prepared for this. No one had expected the High Priest to betray his own nation. 

Pure light caught his eye. The golden one, like the incarnation of Apollo, was rushing into the midst of battle. Would he know where Briseis was? Then again, why would he help Achilles? The golden warrior was Hector's friend. The stubborn one called Balian was there also. He fought with none of the grace and finesse that his golden friend possessed, but nevertheless, he was still and impressive fighter, with Ares' hand guiding his every stroke.

Instinct drove Achilles. He moved to join in the battle, fighting for the Trojans. But they didn't know that. Balian engaged him battle. Achilles did not have time to explain to him that he was on their side. Words were not his specialty. He freed himself from the melee and ran towards the citadel. At least that was easy enough to see.

* * *

Eudoras could see Troy burning, and he was worried for Achilles. All the men felt the same anxiety. They were Myrmidon; Achilles' Myrmidon. Their place was by his side. They knew that he had ordered them to sail home, but their desires were unanimous. Ares would have to throw down his arms before the Myrmidon would abandon Achilles.

* * *

Barbossa pondered the courageous stupidity of young men and immortals, and to some extent, of Jack Sparrow. He admired them, with the exception of Jack, but at the same time, he pitied them. Men like them lived fast and more often than not, died young. Pity was an emotion so foreign to the pirate that for a brief moment, he thought someone had laced his drink. 

"Orders, Cap'n?" said Pintel.

"Keep to the Code!" said Barbossa.

"Wot code?" asked Ragetti. Barbossa rolled his eyes.

"The Pirates' Code, you mangy one eyed dog! What other code be there?"

"Balian's code of chivalry," muttered Ragetti under his breath.

"What d'ya mean, Cap'n?" asked Pintel.

"Anyone who falls behind is left behind," drawled Barbossa, wondering if a pirate could have crew members with less intelligence than these two. By the locker, he hadn't even wanted them. It had been Jack Sparrow who had hired them all those years ago. Sparrow's standards had always been lax. "We'll not be stoppin' until we reach safety, so if you want to stay alive, keep up!"

* * *

Briseis was running, letting her feet guide her. Everything was burning. Gods, where was Paris? She screamed his name, but other screams drowned out her voice. No one could help Troy now. She escaped the confines of the stone corridors and came to a stop in the courtyard, where she knelt before a statue of Apollo. 'Why?' she asked him inside her head. 'Why are you letting our enemies destroy us? Don't you care?' 

The sun god was unmoved by her questions. He stayed silent; a majestic stone figure towering above all else. The gods had abandoned Troy. A hand latched itself in her hair and hauled her to her feet. "Here's a pretty treasure," sneered a Greek soldier. She tried to fight him, but he was too strong. There was a blur of movement at the edges of her vision. The grasping hand loosened as the Greek crumpled lifelessly to the ground. The gods did care after all. Briseis hurled herself at her rescuer, sobbing with relief. They had sent her Achilles. With the flames behind him casting their glow over him, Achilles looked as Apollo ought to appear. Briseis fell into his arms.

* * *

Paris saw _him_, holding his cousin. How dare he, after everything that he'd done to the royal house of Troy! The prince put an arrow to the string. Honour didn't matter anymore. He had his prey in sight and he was not going to let this arrogant Greek lion slip through his grasp again. 'For Hector,' he thought. The arrow flew and pierced Achilles' heel. Frustrated at his skill, or rather, the lack of it, Paris put another arrow to the string just as Achilles turned and advanced towards him. The arrow struck the Greek in the chest, stopping him only for a brief moment. 

'How does it feel, to be pierced by my arrows?' thought Paris as he shot Achilles again. In his anger, he was oblivious to Briseis' cries.

Finally defeated, Achilles fell to his knees, just as Hector had done. With much difficulty, he pulled the bloody arrows from his body. Briseis rushed to him and placed herself between Paris and the dying warrior. With gentle hands, she cradled his face. He stroked her hair with shaking fingers, breathing in her scent. "Stay with me," she begged him. He smiled.

"You made me see," he whispered. "You gave me peace. In a lifetime of war, you gave me peace."

Paris finally remembered what he was doing in Troy. Killing Achilles had not been on the agenda. "Briseis," he called. "We must go." Without turning around, Briseis shook her head. Paris swallowed painfully. Briseis, his beautiful cousin, had betrayed them all. She loved the monster who had killed Hector. How could she? Didn't she remember how Hector had loved her and protected her?

The younger prince turned in bitter disgust, making to leave, but he stopped. Hector wouldn't have wanted him to abandon Briseis. Not generous kind Hector. "I know a way out," he said, trying his best to control his voice. "We must go, quickly!"

Achilles gave Briseis a little push. "Go on," he said. She had to live. "Go with him. I'll be with you, if you remember me." Reluctantly, Briseis got to her feet. Paris dragged her away by the arm. She turned back to look at her lover. How she wanted to run back to him and stay in his arms forever, but Paris' grip on her was strong. She had no choice but to follow her cousin. Her very angry cousin.

* * *

Cassandra had seen this night in her dreams. It was the will of the gods. She was with her mother and sisters, huddled in a dark corner of the temple while Priam, sword in hand, stood over them. The Greeks rushed in, but they took no notice of the royal family. They were too occupied with the gold. Calchas ran into the midst of the pillaging, outrage apparent in his face. "What is the meaning of this?" he said. "These treasures are not yours to take! This is hubris!..." he had barely finished the last word when Priam leapt at him. 

"I should have listened to the gods' chosen one when he said you were a traitor!" cried the old king.

Calchas stepped backward, into the shadow of a toppling sacred statue. There was a terrible scream as the stone figure of Zeus fell on the High Priest and crushed him spraying blood all over the flagstones. "Justice has been delivered," said Priam. The Greeks finally noticed that the king of Troy was standing there. They converged on him. The old man was no match for these savage warriors. Blood spurted everywhere as they hacked ruthlessly at the old man. Hecuba screamed her husband's name over and over again until her voice went hoarse, and then she slumped back in a dead faint.

"Mother!" cried Cassandra. Her younger sisters whimpered and pressed closer to her.

Having dispatched with the king, some of the Greeks turned their attentions to the remainder of the royal family while the rest went back to plundering. Cassandra pushed her sisters behind her. If they wanted to hurt them, they would have to do so over her dead body. "What's this?" said one of the Greeks. "Trojan princesses? My, they would make an interesting addition to the plunder." They advanced on the women, who inched backwards until the wall stopped them. Cassandra glared at the men with all the scorn she could muster.

"Oooh, this one's feisty," said the captain. "She's mine! I wonder what she'll be like in bed. It'll be interesting to see if her flesh is as hot as her spirit..." His voice trailed off in a bloody gurgle as a blade pierced him through from behind. An unseen archer was shooting arrows in rapid succession and out of the corner of her eye, Cassandra saw the familiar and welcome sight of Will Turner and his strange sword.

"You like hot?" snarled Balian from behind the dying Greek. "Go to Hell."

"These men need a dose of Jack Sparrow, Chief of the Pelagostos," said Will, cutting down the last of the Greeks in the temple. "Eunuchy, snip snip."

Legolas leaped down from his perch on Athena's head and rolled his eyes. "Oh please," he said. "I've heard enough eunuch jokes to last me for eternity. Come on, let's go."

Balian picked up the unconscious queen and they ran, bumping into Paris who was dragging a tearful Briseis behind him. When the prince saw them, he opened his mouth to ask them what they were doing in Troy, but Legolas, who carried one of the young princesses, spoke first. "We can talk later," he said. "Now move!"

* * *

In the chaos, no one noticed a man who was neither a Greek nor a Trojan walking away laden with gold and other precious _shiny_ things. Jack Sparrow did not feel guilty at all. That pig of a king —the one with the long intangible name— was going to get it all anyway. He was hurrying through a courtyard on his way to the escape route when he heard a moan. The pirates stopped. On the ground lay the great Achilles, with an arrow in his heel. The warrior moaned again. Jack looked down at him, and then he looked at the pretty shiny things in his arms. He looked back at Achilles, and then he set down the treasure. 

Jack took out his compass. The needle was spinning madly. Damnation! He didn't know what he wanted. Achilles let out another moan. The pirate snapped the compass shut. There was a foreign voice in his head saying 'save him'. It was most odd. "I don't know why I'm doing this," he said as he bent down. "I don't even like you. You killed Hector and he was a pretty decent fella. I liked _him_." He slung Achilles' arm around his shoulders and hoisted the Greek to his feet. Staggering under the large man's weight, Jack half-dragged and half-carried Achilles to the escape route. "You know what?" panted the pirate. "I think some of that Balian is rubbing off on me. A truly discomforting notion, don't you think?" Achilles, being unconscious, did not reply.

* * *

**A/N: **I wonder how the others will react to Jack's strange decision. Conflict will ensue, obviously. Poor Paris thought he had killed the guy. Reviews please? (offers bribes of virtual ice-cream) 


	18. The Flight from Troy

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning, savvy?

**Chapter 18: The Flight from Troy**

Their pounding footsteps echoed in the underground tunnel. Balian was almost at the exit when he heard something that he did not expect. "Oi, stop!" shouted Jack. "Wait for me!"

"Jack Sparrow?" said Will. "What are you doing here? And isn't that..."

"I went back for some treasure," Jack explained. There were several raised eyebrows directed at his strange burden, although the tearful Briseis looked as if she might faint with joy. Paris was glaring furiously and Will looked worried for his friend.

"It's not like what it seems, all right?" said Jack uncomfortably, glancing at Achilles "and can someone help me carry this brute? He's bloody heavy."

Paris was speechless with anger. Didn't Jack remember what Achilles had done to Hector? Balian's voice broke through his angry musings. "Paris," he said softly. "Let's go. Come on, everyone." Cassandra tried to comfort her furious brother but he shook her off and pushed past the others, storming off towards the exit.

"Why did you save him, Jack?" asked Will as he helped the pirate to carry the wounded Greek warrior. "You saw what he did to Hector. I think you should've just left him. He deserved it."

"I dunno," said Jack. "You didn't see him, lying there all pathetic. I heard this voice inside me head sayin' Jack Sparrow, you can't jes leave 'im there. It was strange. Methinks our perfect knight is gettin' to me."

"I wish," muttered Will "and maybe even Balian would've left him to his fate. It's no more than what he deserves."

Briseis overheard the conversation. She glanced back at them worriedly. What if they did decide that Achilles deserved to die? What if they left him? She prayed to all the gods that their sense of honour would be enough to save her lover. And then she remembered. The one called Jack Sparrow was notorious for his honour, or rather, his lack of honour.

Despite ordering everyone else to adhere to the Pirates' code, Barbossa was waiting for them. "What took ye so long?" he demanded. "The ladies are worried sick." He bowed to the princesses.

"Are they safe, captain?" said Balian.

"Aye," said Barbossa. "Aeneas is with them, and methinks that boy Paris would be there by now. He pushed past me looking like Jack Sparrow without rum."

In Balian's arms, Hecuba stirred. She squinted up at him. "Priam?" she whispered. "Why is it so dark? Where are we?"

"Mother," said Cassandra. "Father's dead, and Troy's burning. Don't you remember?"

Hecuba looked at her daughter as if she had never seen her before. "Who are you?" asked the Trojan Queen. She looked around. "Where's Hector? Where's my baby?"

"She's lost her memory," said Legolas. "Sometimes the mind just can't cope with all that trauma. She thinks you're her husband, Balian, and that Hector's still a baby."

"By the locker, this is just getting better and better," said Jack, panting under Achilles' weight. "Why is the rum always gone? I need some right now."

The bedraggled company made their way to where the rest of the survivors were waiting, huddled behind some dark rocks. "We can't stay here," said Andromache. "We've seen the light from Greek torches. They'll find us." She clutched her baby close to her. Her eyes gleamed with fear although she was trying very hard not to let it show.

"Aeneas," said Balian, leaving Hecuba in the care of her children "Get them up; we have to keep moving."

"We can't go east," said the Trojan. "That's the Hittite's territory. They'll kill us."

"Make for the ocean," said Will. "We can sail away to safety. With Jack's compass, we'll be able to navigate to land."

"What's a compass?" asked both Balian and Aeneas.

"Uh...equipment used for navigation," said Will. "Come on."

The refugees, composed mainly of the elderly, women and children, hurried west, for the shore. "There's a fleet stationed three miles north of Troy," said Aeneas. "If the gods pity us, the Greeks won't have burnt the ships yet."

"I don't think you gods give an arse rat's whether we live or die," said Jack.

"Isn't he supposed to be sober?" said Legolas, carrying an old man on his back.

"Believe me," said Will, with a whimpering child in his arms "sober and Jack are not two words that go together."

"You can always put 'not' in between them," suggested the elf.

"True enough," said Will.

It was during this chaotic flight that Achilles woke. "What's happening?" he croaked. "If I'm in Hades, why does it hurt?" Ragetti and Pintel, who had been assigned the task of helping him, gave a start and almost dropped him.

"You're not in Hades," said Briseis.

"If yer awake, can ye walk?" asked Ragetti.

"Don't be so heartless," said Briseis. "Can't you see he's hurt?"

"We're pirates, Poppet," said Pintel "and you know what that means?"

"It means we ain't got no hearts," said Ragetti "'least not the type you're talkin' about."

"Take all you can; give nuthin' back," said Pintel.

"And anyone who falls behind is left behind," said Ragetti. "That's our code."

"You're..." began Briseis, spluttering with anger. "You're such...godless pirates!"

"That's the truth of it, Poppet," said Pintel, winking.

"You two, get a move on!" called Barbossa from ahead. "Anyone who falls behind is left behind!"

"Didn't the Cap'n once say that the Code is more like guidelines than actual rules?" said Pintel.

"Dunno, but I wouldn't care to find out," said Ragetti. They hurried to catch up with Barbossa. Neither of them wanted to be left behind in a strange and foreign land where there were hostile soldiers hunting for them.

"You do know that I'll never leave anyone behind," said Balian to Barbossa.

"Aye, Sir Balian," said the old pirate. "That was meant for those two only, although it doesn't hurt to encourage everyone to speed up." The last two words were especially emphasized and as he said them, he glared menacingly at an adolescent boy and his old father. The boy took one look at Barbossa and doubled his pace.

"You shouldn't terrorize them," said Balian. The wounded child he was carrying was crying in fear. His face was wet with tears. The blacksmith murmured soothingly to him to calm him down. "They're frightened enough already."

"Fear is good if it can save their lives," said Barbossa. Before Balian could retort, arrows whistled through the air. Screams rose. The refugees scattered as the Greeks charged at them, wave upon wave of cold spearheads and sword blades glittering like malevolent stars.

They all knew that they could not fight if they were to save the remaining survivors. Balian cared not for his own life but there were the lives which Hector had entrusted to him. He could not fail the late prince yet again. Pushing aside his pride, he ran with the others. Many were using Legolas' glow as a guide, although the elf probably did not know where he was going.

Cassandra's legs felt clumsy and numb, as if they would collapse under her any moment. Being a princess, she was not accustomed to running anywhere, and the distance and rough terrain had taken their toll on her. She stumbled. Pain exploded in her ankle. She cried out. Ahead of her, Paris stopped and turned to run back to her.

"Go, Paris! Go!" Cassandra screamed. "Don't worry about me!"

"You're my sister, Cassandra!" said Paris. "I'm not going to abandon you!"

"You have to look after the others!"

"Balian and Aeneas can take care of them!" Paris picked her up but by that time, they were surrounded by Greeks. The prince met their sneers proudly with a stony glare that would have impressed Legolas. He set Cassandra down again and put an arrow to the string, shooting the first Greek who dared to approach. He quickly put another arrow to the string but he could not keep up with the sheer number of enemies. There was a loud crack. He felt as if a projectile from Balian's catapult had hit him. He heard Cassandra screaming his name, and then everything went black and silent.

* * *

Pintel and Ragetti collapsed onto the rocky ground, gasping for breath. Achilles fell with them. The sudden impact aggravated his wounds, making him groan. He did not like to admit it, but the pain was making him feel faint. Briseis quickly shoved aside the two pirates so she could go to her lover. There were many scowls directed in their direction. She ignored them the best she could and tried to inspect Achilles' wounds.

Balian stood nearby, his mind full of quarrelling thoughts. One part of him was filled with concern for the wounded man but the other part still hated Achilles for what had happened to Hector. What would a knight do in such a circumstance? Would he be able to remain loyal to his late friend while still being forgiving and compassionate as a true follower of God ought to be? 'What would you do, Hector?' he wondered. The late prince did not reply. He was too far away to be concerned with his friend's internal conflict.

"How is he?" Balian asked Briseis. She whipped around, seemingly surprised that someone was worried about Achilles' welfare.

"_I _am fine," said Achilles with an emphasis on the first word. "It's nothing that a few days of rest and expert care can't heal."

"The problem, oh great Achilles, is that we cannot afford a few days of rest," said Legolas. "Nor is there an expert healer who can give you the expert help that you need." The elf wasn't feeling particularly generous towards the Greek. Achilles did not blame him for this attitude. If he had been one of Hector's friends, he would be feeling just as resentful, if not more so.

"At least he admits he needs help," said Legolas, rolling his eyes "unlike a certain stubborn man who always insists he is fine when he evidently is not."

"Yes, Aragorn is very stubborn, isn't he?" said Balian innocently. The light-hearted banter took his mind off their potentially problematic situation for a moment.

Briseis took this chance to ask for some supplies that she would need. "Does anyone have any water and bandages?" she said.

"We need the water for drinking," said Legolas. "There doesn't seem to be much out here."

"We can always use something else," said Balian. "Jack, do you have any alcohol?" he shouted.

"Not very much," replied the pirate warily. The last time Balian had requested alcohol, he had burnt the lot. That blacksmith was almost as bad as Will and Elizabeth when it came to wasting precious beverages.

"Bring it over!"

"Why?"

"We needed for cleaning wounds!"

The notion finally dawned on Jack. "Oh no you don't!" he hollered, clutching his bottle desperately. "I already gave up me gold to save his life! I am _not_ giving up me drinks!"

"It's not rum, Jack," said Will reasonably although he personally didn't care if Achilles died of gangrenous injuries.

"Well, it's still drink! And you owe me lots and lots of rum, William Turner. You and your fiancée burnt a whole cargo-hold-ful of rum!"

"She's my _wife_ now," said Will.

"Hush!" hissed Legolas suddenly. The elf's eyes narrowed and gleamed with the wary alertness of one who was being stalked. "Something's coming this way."

"We can't run anymore," whispered Balian. "Everyone's exhausted."

A call of a horn rang out in the dark empty night. Achilles jerked and gasped in pain. "I know that horn," he panted. "Myrmidon. You, Balian, call out to Eudoras."

Balian did as he was bid. His voice echoed like that of the horn.

"Who's there?" came the reply.

"We have Achilles with us!" shouted Balian. It was perfectly true.

The Myrmidon drew closer until both parties could see each other. "You!" roared Eudoras when he saw Balian. He quickly drew his sword.

"Wait, Eudoras," called Achilles weakly, struggling to stand. "They saved me. I owe them my life."

Eudoras' eyes widened. "My lord," he said, getting down onto his knees. "What happened to you?"

"Paris shot me," said Achilles.

"And with reason," said Legolas. "Speaking of which, where is Paris?"

"Aeneas is missing too," said Will, looking around.

"As is Princess Cassandra," said Barbossa.

"Excuse me," said one of the younger princesses, Polyxena, timidly. "I...I think I saw Cassandra fall down and Paris went to help her."

"Are you saying they were captured?" said Balian. The urgency in his voice frightened the girl.

"I...I don't know," she said.

"We were all separated when the Greeks attacked," said Legolas. "Maybe they're out there somewhere. We cannot guess until we have more clues."

"What about Aeneas?" asked Will. "Has anyone got any idea what's happened to him?"

"Probably somewhere out here in this godforsaken place," said Jack, kicking a pebble as if it was the cause of all their troubles.

"The morning will reveal more clues," said Legolas. "For now, everyone is tired. We should rest a bit."

"Aye," said Barbossa.

Achilles wounds were treated by Briseis and his men. They all made camp under the stars and shared what meagre food they had. The glow from flaming Troy could still be seen, like a bloodstain on the black silk of the sky. Andromache held Astyanax close to her as he slept, breathing in his milky scent. The baby sucked his thumb in his sleep, totally unaware of what was going on. The many thoughts in her head were keeping her awake. What would happen to them now? She lifted her head to look around, careful not to wake her baby.

A glowing figure stood watch over them, bound by his honour and his loyalty to Hector. Dear Hector; he had always been prepared, even for his own death. He had left his family and his people in able hands.

* * *

Aeneas saw the ships in the distance, their Trojan standards still flying proudly from their masts. "Thank the gods," he breathed. He turned around to his ragged company. "Come on! Have strength, my comrades!" he called. "Soon we will be safe!"

The encouragement gave the exhausted Trojans a new burst of energy and they ran down the beach to the boats, surprising the sailors. "There is no time for explanation," Aeneas told them. "Set sail and head of Sicily, where a son of the House of Assaracus still reigns."

It was only when the sun rose and they were sailing in open waters that he realized he had less than half the company which had escaped from Troy. His relatives were not among them.

* * *

When the sun rose, the full extent of their loss dawned on the traumatized Trojans. Many had been killed, leaving only a handful of people, as well as the remaining members of the royal family and the foreigners. "I am going to look for the missing people," said Legolas, getting to his feet. The elf, despite all odds, still looked as meticulous as ever. Only the smudge of dirt on his face and a few spots of blood on his clothing hinted at the rough fighting last night.

"I'll come with you," said Balian. The man looked exhausted. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face was streaked with soot and blood. Dust caked to his skin and hair. His eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep. Legolas was sure that he was standing because he was so stubborn.

Will also got up and prepared to go searching for more survivors but Legolas stopped both his friends. "You need to look after the others," said the elf. Besides, I'll be faster on my own and if I'm caught, at least you won't be caught with me."

Will reached for his pistol and spare shots. He handed them to Legolas. "Take these," he said. "I think you'll need them more than I do."

"Thank you," said Legolas, taking the weapon gratefully. "If I'm not back by the time the sun touches the top of Mount Ida, don't wait for me. Make for the fleet and take them all to safety." He turned to go, his light step making no mark on the gravel.

"Be careful!" called Balian.

"Aren't I always?" Legolas said without looking back. The elf broke into a swift run and was soon lost in the distance.

"He's gone to find Paris, hasn't he?" said Helen, coming up behind the two men.

"I'm sure Paris will be all right," said Will, and then internally berated himself for giving her false hope.

At the edge of the makeshift camp, Eudoras was explaining to an impatient Achilles why the Myrmidon was still on this side of the Aegean. Achilles did not seem to be accepting Eudoras' explanation very well but he was in no state to hit anything and that added to his foul mood. Jack's laments that he had given up a stash of treasure to save Achilles' life didn't help matters.

* * *

**A/N:** Lots and lots of dialogue here. I hope I didn't bore anyone. The next chapter we'll see what happens to Paris and what his friends will do. Reviews please? 


	19. A Goddess' Favour

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Jack, Will, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 19: A Goddess' Favour**

Legolas followed the trail of muddled prints which the fleeing Trojans had left behind. Not far from where they had been attacked the night before, the elf found Paris' bow and many arrows scattered on the ground. Some of them were bloody and others were broken. There were rusty brown droplets of blood on the sandy ground and drag marks. Having been friends with Aragorn for years, Legolas could interpret these signs with very little doubt as to what had happened after Paris and Cassandra had fallen behind. The siblings were prisoners at the very best and he did not even want to contemplate the worst outcome. The elf gathered up the bow and arrows and ran back to the camp to discuss their next plan of action. The elven prince was not one who would abandon his friends to the whims of the enemy.

* * *

"We must get the civilians to safety before we try anything," said Balian. "This is not their burden to bear." 

"Can't they come with us?" said Jack. "After all, we are sailing to safety and we probably need to sail to rescue Paris and his sister whats-her-name."

"That is actually a very valid point," said Achilles. Jack looked smug. "I know Agamemnon. He'll sail home with the treasures of Troy and gloat. Your prince will probably be tormented for his entertainment and herded through the streets as part of the victory parades. I don't want to think about the princess' fate."

"So we make for the ships, and then we plan," said Legolas. "Well, what are we waiting for? On your feet, everyone, and we don't stop until we are safely on a wooden deck or two!"

"Doesn't he ever tire?" asked Eudoras as he struggled to help Achilles keep up with the golden warrior.

"From what I've seen, no," said Achilles. "He's no mere mortal, that one. I wouldn't be surprised if he reveals himself as Apollo or the great Ares himself."

Balian was once again carrying Hecuba. It made him uncomfortable when she addressed him by affectionate nicknames which she had probably used with Priam. He ignored that the best he could and concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. He was too proud and stubborn to admit it, but he was exhausted. Last night, he had hardly gotten any sleep for fear of another attack by the Greeks.

To their dismay, the ships were gone when they reached the coast. Balian stared across the vast blueness with mournful gulls crying overhead, wheeling in the sky. The sound of surf gently rolling in and out would have been calming if they still had hope for survival. "So that's it then," he said, his voice laced with bitter defeat. "We're stranded here. This is the end."

"And I'm with Barbossa on the same beach," said Jack, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

"How do you think I feel, Jack Sparrow, to be stuck with a pompous perpetually drunk pirate?" demanded the old sailor. Jack the monkey chattered in agreement. Jack the pirate kicked a round grey pebble in disgust, only to find that it wasn't a pebble. It was a little grey round crab which looked like a pebble. He frowned as he remembered the last time he had seen such a crab.

Legolas sank down onto the sand, finally admitting defeat. He found a shell and flung it into the ocean in frustration. After all that they had gone through, they were still going to be trapped in conquered Troy, waiting for death. They would have broken another of their promises to Hector. Paris and Cassandra would be left to the torment and suffering which most certainly awaited them at the hands of Agamemnon.

"Aeneas must have taken the ships," said Andromache, going to stand beside Balian. Astyanax complained about his hunger in her arms. His complaints went ignored. "At least our people still have a future, even if we don't."

"I've failed Hector again," said Balian softly. "How can I face him now?"

Achilles didn't know why, but he was as depressed as the others. He sat down in the sand with some difficulty and watched the waves. Briseis settled herself beside him and he put an arm around her. "I won't let anyone hurt you," he said. "I swear."

"It wasn't supposed to end like this," said Briseis. "If only..."

"Those are the two saddest words in any language," said Achilles, breathing in the scent of her hair. It was tainted with the smoke from her burning city.

As they all gazed hopelessly at the sea, Will stepped into the ocean. The surf foamed around his ankles, lapping at his boots like affectionate dogs welcoming their master. He waded in until the water reached his waist and swirled around him. The wind strengthened, blowing his dark hair away from his face.

Balian started towards his friend, and then he stood mesmerized as Will tilted his head back and raised his hands to the darkening sky in supplication, as if he was a priest asking for a blessing from some higher power. Lightning flashed and thunder clapped as if the deities were answering his prayers. Within moments, Will was soaked. It was as if the young man had become one with the sea. His voice merged with that of the crashing waves. His wet clothes were plastered to his body, outlining the shape of his muscles, making him look as if he was some god made flesh. The waves grew wilder and more violent as the volume of Will's words increased. No one could hear what he was saying, but they were all awestruck. On the shore, people were on their knees, praying to the gods or worshipping Will — it was hard to tell.

With a roar of thunder, two ships, more magnificent than any Greek or Trojan vessel surged out from beneath the waves with seawater pouring over the sides and dripping from their sails.

"My _Pearl_!" cried Jack, running towards the sea.

"Wrong again, Jack Sparrow," said Barbossa as he strained to overtake the ecstatic deposed captain. "**My** _Pearl_."

Will rose out of the water and walked across the waves towards his ship. He waved to the people still staring at him from the shore, indicating for them to wait a while. Legolas, Balian, Achilles, the rest of the Myrmidon and the Trojans gaped at this unearthly spectacle.

"I guess we have ships now," said Balian lamely. Legolas nodded, having been rendered speechless.

Boats were lowered from both the _Black Pearl_ and the _Flying Dutchman_. Everyone was transported onto the ships. Unfortunately for Jack, it was Barbossa who made it to the _Black Pearl _first. The deposed captain made faces and obscene gestures at the other pirate, who just grinned smugly and reached for his pistol...only to find that it was gone. Finally able to retrieve some of his dignity, Jack proudly waved Barbossa's missing weapon and danced around on the deck of the _Dutchman_. "I got your gun," he said in a sing-song voice.

Will was too busy speaking to his father to take any notice of his less than sober friend. "How on earth did you get the ships off the island?" he asked.

"I thought he called them," said Balian.

"Obviously not," said Legolas. "Our captain is just as surprised, as it seems."

"I be da one who freed your ships," said a familiar woman's voice with a Jamaican accent. Will bowed.

"Calypso," he said. "When I asked for your help back then, I must admit that I did not expect such direct aid."

"Calypso?" said Eudoras, looking aghast. "I thought she would be pre..."

"Quiet!" hissed Jack. "It is most stupid to insult the goddess of the sea."

The Myrmidon warrior shut his mouth. "Still as charming as ever, I see, Captain William Turner," Calypso was saying as she circled the young man, an amused smile on her dark lips. "I bring you a message."

"A message?" said Will. "From who?"

"From da heathen gods," said Calypso, looking him up and down appraisingly. She then caught sight of Balian, wet and dripping, still holding Hecuba. The goddess winked at him suggestively, causing him to tense. "We have decided to free you from your present task. No longer will you be bound to da sea, for you need to go on land for your next task."

"My next task?" said Will.

"To help him." said Calypso, nodding at Balian. "He is da one who is to keep da peace and justice. 'Tis a heavy load to bear." Her eyes were fixed on the blacksmith for a moment and then they swivelled in Legolas' direction. As soon as the goddess' eyes met his, Legolas' sea-longing overwhelmed him. The surf roared in his ears and the cry of mournful gulls rang clearly in his mind. He could hear the singing of his kindred on the faraway shores of Valinor. His breathing quickened and his pupils dilated. Instead of Calypso, he saw his ancestral home, surrounded by a sea like silver glass. A voice, so distant, broke through his trance. It was desperate, angry and...frightened?

"Stop it!" shouted Balian. "You're hurting him! For God's sake stop it!"

"You are brave, young knight, to speak to a goddess like this," said Calypso, releasing Legolas from her gaze and turning her attention back to Balian. She grinned, revealing hideous black teeth. "Aren't you afraid?"

"I swore an oath to never let fear overcome me," said Balian tersely, not responding to the goddess' attempts to charm him. Calypso's smile turned into a frown.

"I see why you were chosen," she said curtly. "Not a pirate at all, and all da same, there is a touch of destiny about you." With that, she disintegrated into a salty mist and returned to wherever her abode was, leaving a ship full of very nervous people.

"Are you all right, Legolas?" asked Will. The elf nodded, although he had not yet regained enough breath to speak.

"So you," said Achilles, pointing at Will "speak to the goddess of the sea on a regular basis and you..." Achilles pointed at Balian "are chosen...by whom?"

"By the gods," said Briseis, looking at Balian with a new sort of respect in her eyes.

"So what are you?" Achilles asked Legolas.

"An elf," replied the golden warrior, having finally regained his strength after his encounter with Calypso.

"What's an elf?" asked Achilles.

"Means he's going to live forever, mate," said Jack as he sauntered past. "Dear William, seeing as you are the esteemed captain of this...marvellous ship, it is your duty to entertain your guests, is it not?"

Will looked wary and confused. "I suppose so," he said.

"Ah, thought so," said Jack. "Therefore, since it is your duty to entertain your guests, would it not be appropriate to offer them a drink, say, in the form of rum perhaps?"

"I'll go get it, Cap'n," said Bootstrap before Will could respond. The captain looked absolutely horrified at the thought of having an intoxicated Jack Sparrow on board his ship.

"Where to now, Captain Turner?" said Barbossa from the _Pearl_.

Will got an idea. "Jack, you can have all the rum you want if you lend me that compass," he said, holding out his hand. At first, Jack looked reluctant, but the promise of rum broke down his barriers and he gave Will the compass. Bootstrap returned rolling a barrel of rum across the deck. Jack fell onto his knees and, according to Legolas, did homage to the barrel.

* * *

Paris woke up feeling like he had been trampled by a herd of stampeding horses. He groaned as a wave of nausea washed over him and he would have emptied his stomach if it had not been empty in the first place. "I see you are awake, Your Highness," said a hatefully smug voice. The prince opened his eyes. His vision swam. He waited until it had settled into focus before glaring at the speaker. Agamemnon sneered. 

"It seems that you _are _related to Hector after all," said the High King of Mycenae. "You are as stubborn, as defiant, and as foolish as your brother."

"You're not worthy to lick the dust from my brother's sandals," croaked Paris. He would have stood up if he could but he was bound to a stake driven into the ground and therefore he was forced to remain on his knees. Agamemnon's face darkened. He aimed a kick at Paris' stomach, making the prince double over in pain. Wheezing, Paris lifted his head to throw a defiant stare at Agamemnon.

"Hector paid for his foolish Trojan pride with his life," growled the king. "You would do well to learn from his mistake."

"It wasn't a mistake when he told you that no son of Troy will ever submit to a foreign ruler. I hold to that."

Agamemnon grabbed Paris by his dark curls and slammed the back of his head against the stake. Stars exploded in Paris' vision. His head felt as if it would burst open. "Your brother never saw the limits of my mercy," hissed the Greek king "but you will." He motioned to the elite royal bodyguards. "Take this insolent Trojan cur and flog him until he begs for mercy. We'll see what breaks first; his soul or my whip."

Paris was no match for the strength of the guards. Their grips held him in place as they tied him to the whipping post. His clothes were torn from him. In this dire situation, he found himself recalling one of Balian's tales of torture. "I held onto my anger and my oath," the blacksmith had said. "I promised myself that I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing me scream and grovel. It was all that I could do."

"Be without fear in the face of your enemies," Paris repeated quietly to himself. He heard the crack before he felt the pain, but when he finally registered it, he quickly clamped his teeth together and swallowed the scream that welled up in his throat. The second lash drove the breath from him so that he couldn't scream if he wanted to. His body spasmed with each blow. Hot blood ran down his back. He soon lost count and instead tried to focus on his anger and the remnants of his dignity. Small whimpers escaped his lips; he couldn't help himself. Tears ran down his cheeks. Oh the burning fires, the agony!

And then, it stopped. "I'm impressed," said Agamemnon, clapping slowly in a mocking manner. "But you will beg."

"I'll never beg _you_," croaked Paris. His voice sounded as if it belonged to someone else. "You can take your little dream and shove it where the light doesn't shine." This he learnt from Jack.

"You act as if you're still a prince."

"That's because I am."

"So you say, for the moment."

The flogging resumed, but the gods seemed to have taken pity on him. Paris slipped into dark painless oblivion. The last thing he could hear was Hector's voice saying "I know you will make me proud."

* * *

Will flipped open the compass. The needle spun lazily and then stilled. "That direction," he said, pointing unknowingly towards Agamemnon's fleet. 

'Is that what a compass does?' thought Balian. 'I wonder how it knows what you want most.'

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, so I'm no good at time management. I found some time Friday afternoon to type this up so the chapter is not late like I said it would be in the little note I posted. So, what do you think? Leave a comment please? You know, that little purple button is really quite a pretty colour. Click it! And it only takes about thirty seconds to make this author very happy. Come on guys, I need some cheering up during this horrible time in my life called exams ;) 


	20. For the Sake of Friends

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Hector, Paris...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 20: For the Sake of Friends**

Cassandra curled up in a dark corner of the tent, trying to make herself as small as possible. She was with the other female prisoners. It was stiflingly hot. The air smelled of stale sweat and smoke and fear. Somewhere, a girl was crying softly. The princess wondered where the rest of the survivors were, if there were still any that roamed free. Where were Andromache and Astyanax? Where were Helen, Hecuba and Polyxena?

And where was Balian?

She knew that Paris was a captive, thanks to her. She didn't know what the Greeks had done with him but whatever it was, it would not be good. Poor Paris. He'd led a pampered existence ever since he had been born. How could he survive this? How could _she_ survive this, for that matter?

Someone ducked inside the tent. "Find the Trojan princess," barked a voice. "The king wants her." A rough hand grabbed Cassandra and dragged her screaming and kicking all the way to Agamemnon's tent. The king wrinkled his nose at her dishevelled state.

"She's not half as fine as the other one," he said, waving her away. "You can have her," he told his bodyguards. They turned their predatory gazes to the girl. She prayed for the gods to strike her down. They ignored her.

* * *

The Greek fleet sailed for home. Paris was put with the other prisoners below deck. He was only half-lucid. The voices of his fellow prisoners were distant and he could make out very few words. He felt hot, as if someone had lit a fire in his flesh. Someone put stale lukewarm water to his lips. He gulped it down greedily. He was so hot, so thirsty. His back burned with the flames of Tartarus.

"He's fevering up," said one of the Trojans. "He won't survive if he doesn't get help."

"We can't do anything for ourselves, let alone for him."

"He's Prince Hector's brother. We owe it to the prince to try."

Agamemnon finally sent a physician down to tend to Paris. There was no point in capturing a prince only to have him die on the journey back home. The King of Mycenae was not one to let Hades take away such a prize.

* * *

Balian, Legolas, Barbossa, Will, Jack and Achilles were on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_, sitting around an upturned crate which served as a table. The sails were filled with wind. Bootstrap Bill was at the helm of the _Black Pearl_ while her captain talked with the others about the plan to rescue Paris and Cassandra. Mycenae was within sight, a city sprawling lazily across the landscape like a well fed lion.

"We can't let Agamemnon know that there is a plan," said Balian. "With our inferior numbers, force is not going to work. We must infiltrate the enemy ranks and then steal Paris and Cassandra out."

"I am not a thief," said Achilles.

"You're going to have to be, for once," said Legolas coldly. "This entire strategy will only work with your cooperation."

"Will and I will pretend to be Myrmidon," said Balian. "Legolas will pretend to be our prisoner."

"After having captured a 'god', I think we deserve a reward," said Will "so Balian will ask for Cassandra to be his slave while I will, uh, ask for Paris."

"Considering you two look like twins, that's just put revolting images into me head," said Jack, making gagging noises.

"Remember, Jack, we're _pretending_," said Legolas.

"I know, I know, but it's still revolting."

"So why do we need _Master Greenleaf_ to be a prisoner?" asked Barbossa. "Why not Jack?"

"First, I don't think we can justify our requests if we caught the enemy jester—it's not personal, Jack, so don't scowl at me like that— and secondly, Legolas is a master of escape," said Balian. "If we don't get what we ask for, we can still work with him to free Paris and Cassandra. He can't possibly pretend to be a Greek. It just won't work. They'll recognize him from a mile off."

"So what do I do?" demanded Jack.

"You can stay on the _Dutchman_ and look after the survivors," said Legolas smoothly.

"And me?" said Barbossa.

"You're the captain of the _Black Pearl_," said Will. "You _should_ know what to do."

"Oi! The _Pearl_ is _my_ ship, savvy?" said Jack.

"Correction," said Barbossa. "She _was_ your ship. Now she's mine."

"Tut tut, Barbossa," said Jack, wagging his finger. He took on a solemn tone which reminded everyone of Balian and then began to quote said blacksmith. "Speak the truth always even if it leads to your death."

"Aye," said Barbossa casually. "That's exactly what I be doin'. The _Pearl_ is my ship."

"We can argue about this later," said Balian. "For now, Barbossa is the _Black Pearl_'s captain. We need all of you to be on your guard. If we should come out being chased, you will fire your...your..."

"Cannons," supplied Will.

"Yes, cannons," said Balian. "I knew they weren't catapults."

"One question," said Achilles, looking at Legolas. "How can you free anyone without weapons? I assume you won't have any weapons as you're pretending to be a prisoner."

"I won't have any weapons that can be seen," corrected Legolas. "What they can't see doesn't really matter, does it?"

"You're all mad," muttered the Greek warrior. "And I'm mad too because I'm actually going to help you carry out this suicidal plan."

"That's the spirit, mate," said Jack. He turned to Will. "Now, William, let's bring out the rum and seal this pact in alcohol."

* * *

Balian felt awkward and exposed in a suit of Greek armour. To him, it was not so different from being naked. Will had somehow found some war paint on his ship and Andromache had used it expertly to hide their looks. When the blacksmith had looked into a surprisingly clear mirror, he had not recognized the face that had stared back at him.

"Remember," said Achilles to Balian. "Your name is Palinurus, and Will is Misenus. You both captured Legolas."

"Listen," said Will. "We came up with this plan so I'm pretty sure we remember what to do."

"It'll be fine," said Balian. "I have faith in all of us."

"I pray that your faith is not misplaced," said Barbossa.

* * *

Agamemnon was unpleasantly surprised when his servant announced that Achilles and his men requested an audience with him. "I'd hoped that he would die in Troy," muttered the High King of Mycenae. "Very well, send them in."

Greece's greatest warrior strode in, calm and in control. "Congratulations," he said. "I heard you caught the other prince...what's his name again?"

"His name is Paris, and he is...was the Crown Prince of Troy," growled Agamemnon. Who was Achilles to belittle his victory?

Achilles raised an eyebrow haughtily. "Impressive," he said, sounding as if he meant the opposite. "I've heard that the boy can hardly hold a sword. No doubt the histories will remember you for your valiant achievement."

"Unlike you, Achilles, I actually managed to _take_ a royal prisoner."

"Well, you caught Paris," said Achilles "but I caught something else." Two Myrmidon warriors came in, dragging a fighting prisoner. "My men caught a god."

The divine being lifted his angry blue eyes and glared at his captors.

"My my, Achilles," said Agamemnon, getting off his throne dazedly. "This is indeed quite a catch. Your men have proven themselves superior to even the divine powers." He turned to the golden being. "Which god are you, that you would be caught by mere mortals?"

"I will not have my name sullied by your lips," spat the prisoner.

"It will do something for your prestige if you parade a chained god through the streets of Mycenae," said Achilles.

"Why, are you giving him to me?" asked Agamemnon suspiciously. "What do you want from me, Achilles?"

"Nothing, really," said the warrior with a casual shrug. "I have no use for a vanquished god, but my men, they deserve to be rewarded for their work."

The High King turned to the warrior on Achilles' right. "What do you want?" he asked. The man looked like a seasoned fighter, if the scar running down the side of his face was any proof. He seemed somewhat familiar, but Agamemnon could not remember where he had seen the man before.

"The Trojan princess," the man replied curtly without so much as blinking.

"You can have her," said Agamemnon "but I warn you, you might have to fight for her. My men don't like having to give up their prizes."

Balian paled as he heard what had happened to Cassandra, in the crudest terms possible. "Where is she?" he demanded.

"Last I heard, the cavalry under Nestor had her," said Agamemnon cruelly.

The blacksmith nodded, fighting to keep himself from strangling the fat insolent king. He knew he could not leave unless Achilles left too.

"And you," Agamemnon continued, fixing his attention on Will. "I suppose you want a woman too?"

"Actually, I beg to differ," said the young pirate steadily, although he was feeling more than uncomfortable. "I want the _prince_ of Troy."

"Out of the question," said Agamemnon. "That is something I am most unwilling to relinquish. You may take any other slave but Paris is _my _prisoner, as is this one." He seized Legolas by the hair and both of the elf's friends struggled to refrain from running the High King through with their swords. "Take him and put him with his precious Trojan prince. Let's see how _this_ god is going to save his worshipper when he can't even save himself."

* * *

Paris' heart almost stopped when he saw the Greeks shoving a new prisoner into the sand. Legolas? How could he possibly be caught? The Greeks tied up the elf next to the prince. The golden being's hair was tangled and a bruise was blooming on his cheek, but otherwise, he was unharmed.

"What are you doing here?" whispered Paris.

"Rescuing you," replied Legolas. Paris looked sceptical. "Look, this is a trick. Balian and Will are here too, only they're dressed as Greeks and are unrecognizable."

"Couldn't you have dressed up as a Greek as well?"

"I don't look it."

"This is madness."

"I know. It's Balian's plan, and he'd had a couple of drinks before he thought it up. Anyway, he's gone to get your sister. Will tried to get you but it didn't work, so I'm the one who has to help you escape."

"Great. It might help if your hands weren't bound."

"Such a trivial obstacle is not going to stop _me_."

"Say that when we're free."

"Watch and learn, Paris son of Priam."

* * *

Balian heard the raucous laughter of the men from far off. He prayed he wasn't too late, and broke into a sprint, pushing through the drunken Greeks. He found Cassandra trying to fight off six men who where pawing at her naked body. "Take your hands off her you sons of bitches," he snarled. "She's mine."

"Says who?" sneered one particularly intoxicated soldier. Immediately, Balian drew his sword and pressed it up against the man's throat.

"Says King Agamemnon, the gods, my sword and me," hissed Balian. "And you don't want to make me angry." Too drunk to fight, the men backed off, intimidated by his manner and his armour, which marked him out as a Myrmidon. None could afford to insult Achilles or his men.

When he was certain that the Greeks were not trying to challenge him, he scooped Cassandra up into his arms, all the while averting his gaze from her nakedness as he tried to cover her with his cloak. She struggled weakly against him as he carried her away to where the Myrmidon were making camp. "Shh," he said to calm her down. "It's all right. You're safe with me. I won't let anyone hurt you. I promised Hector." She stopped her pathetic struggles.

"I know your voice," she breathed. "Balian...finally...you've come. I've been waiting for so long for someone to save me, although I never thought it would be you. I thought you would've left."

"I wouldn't leave anyone behind, much less you and Paris. Now hush and get some rest. My name is Palinurus for the moment. We have to keep up the act."

Will had finished erecting two tents; one for himself and Balian, and the other exclusively for Cassandra. When he saw his friend with the bundle in his arms, he strode quickly towards them. His feet sank into the sand and it was difficult to move smoothly but no one could mistake his urgency. "Thank the Lord you were successful," he said. "How is she?"

"She'll live, I think," said Balian. The princess had fallen asleep in his arms. "She's a tough thing, like her brothers." As soon as he set her down on the bed of furs inside her tent, she woke and scrabbled about frantically, clutching his hand and refusing to let him go.

"Please don't leave me," she whispered desperately. "I don't want to have to go back to _them_."

"I'll...I'll just be outside, Cassandra," said Balian awkwardly. "I won't let anyone hurt you, I swear. If you need me, just call and I'll be there."

"Can't you just stay with me for a while? I'm frightened...terrible dreams..."

The blacksmith nodded and sat down in the sand beside her bed. His wife had suffered a similar fate when she had been a girl. She had never forgotten it.

It took a while, but Cassandra finally fell asleep, and Balian was able to extract his hand gingerly from her grasp. She made a muffled whimper but thankfully did not wake, so he managed to slip outside unnoticed. Will was there, waiting for him.

"It's barbaric, what they've done to both her and Paris," the pirate spat. He told Balian about the fruits of his investigations. "I saw Paris with my own eyes and to be honest, I could hardly recognize him. If Legolas hadn't been with him, I would not have noticed him."

"How are they?" asked Balian.

"Paris is...battered, to say the least. Legolas is all right, if a bit bruised and short tempered." Will looked around to see that no one was listening, then he dragged Balian further from Cassandra's tent to make sure that she would not be able to hear them. "Have you noticed anything about the princess?"

"What do you mean?" asked Balian. Will rolled his eyes.

"I can't believe you managed to seduce the Princess of Jerusalem," he said. "For a Frenchman of your age, you are so naive and innocent; it's not natural. I'm no expert but even I can see it. Cassandra is in love with you."

Balian's jaw dropped. "Oh God," he breathed. "That's...that's..."

"Exactly," said Will. "Your daring rescue can only have enforced that love."

"But...but...I...I never...never gave any indication!"

"Sometimes, it's just not needed."

"So...so what do I do?"

"I don't think I'm the right person to ask, Balian. Paris would give you much better advice. Yet another incentive to rescue our dear prince."

* * *

Agamemnon burped in contentment and threw away the last bone of his meal. "In four days, we march into Mycenae," he said to Nestor as he brought his wine cup up to his lips. "Make sure that the victory parade is organized by then. I will suffer no mistakes."

"As your majesty wishes," said Nestor. Agamemnon's parades were simple but pompous things. The two most impressive prisoners would be at the front of course, weighted down by chains and herded like livestock. The King himself would be in a chariot drawn by four black horses, and then what happened behind the chariot was of no importance.

* * *

That night, Will sneaked down to where the slaves were being kept. "Psst!" he said softly. Legolas' keen ears caught the sound and his eyes swivelled in Will's direction to show that he was listening.

"Balian's got Cassandra," said Will. "The new moon is in three days. That's when we act. Be ready for it."

Legolas gave him a look which said 'I'm always ready; just waiting for you.'

"I know, I know," said Will. He nodded at the sleeping Paris. "Take care of him." He was rewarded with yet another look, one which he did not care to interpret. The pirate wondered how Legolas could still deliver such sarcastic barbs whilst being silent.

* * *

**A/N: **The rescue next! More fun stuff. Reviews, please? 


	21. Revenge is Sweet

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 21: Revenge is Sweet **

The Greek sentry stared lazily up at the sky, half-dreaming. Tomorrow, they would march through Mycenae, laden with spoils from Troy. Already, he could hear the cheers of the people. The new moon gave no light, not that there was anything to be seen. The war was over. They were home. There would be no more surprise attacks by the likes of Hector. Even that god, a lord of War if there had ever been one, had been captured. For the first time in many months, the Greek felt he could be lax in his duty.

* * *

Achilles liked this part of the plan. He especially liked the part that he and his Myrmidon were to play. They were going to create a diversion by setting Agamemnon's camp on fire. Revenge tasted sweeter than he had ever imagined it to be. 

"Remember, once the fire, is lit, run," said Balian, worried that Achilles would stay behind to gloat. He and Cassandra would be waiting here while Will went to fetch Legolas and Paris. As soon as the fires were lit, everyone would make for the coast, where the ships were waiting for them.

"Yes, yes," said Achilles impatiently. "You've said that eleven times in the past three days. I counted."

"You don't seem the type who is inclined to take orders," snapped Balian.

"I take orders when there is a need to do so, Balian of Troy."

"It's 'Balian of Ibelin'," said Balian. "Just because I fight for Troy doesn't mean I'm Trojan."

Achilles looked rather amused. Finally he had made this stoic man lose control of his temper. He knew he was being unfair. The man was probably very nervous about this plan which he had devised. If they failed, he would be responsible for the terrible deaths which would ensue, including his own. It took a strong man to bear such stress.

The Greek warrior signalled to his men. His excitement was infectious. They were all eager to burn down Agamemnon's tent. It would be the most daring thing the Myrmidon had ever done, and that was saying a lot.

_Inconspicuously_, as Balian had told them to be over and over again, the Myrmidon infiltrated Agamemnon's camp. No one interfered with them. They were Greeks after all and no one was going to put his nose into Achilles' business. As the night deepened, the Myrmidon gathered behind the area where hay, grain and other supplies were stored. It was autumn, and dry. Everything caught fire easily enough. They poured oil, alcohol and other combustible liquids which they had carried in gourds strapped to their belts, onto the supplies. Achilles threw down the torch. The supplies burst into flames quicker than he could curse Agamemnon. There was the sound of an explosion as dry flour ignited. The Myrmidon quickly leapt out of the way. Achilles could not help but gloat a little over this victory, even though it was entirely dishonourable and hand little renown in it.

"To the coast," he said to his men.

* * *

Balian, alone in the Myrmidon camp, waited for the fire to start and fretted about whether he would be able to see it or not. When in did start, he felt foolish for ever having worried at all. It was impossible not to see the monstrous inferno which raged in Agamemnon's camp. Nor was anyone able to ignore the chaos which ensued. The wind was strong, helping to spread the fire from tent to tent until they were all engulfed in a firestorm. Men and horses alike were screaming. 

"Cassandra, it's time," said Balian, peeking through the tent flaps. She was ready, wearing a dress which Balian had managed to find and 'borrow', as Jack would say, from amongst the loot. It rightfully belonged to a Trojan woman anyway so Balian, despite being a man of honour, felt no guilt about taking it.

"Do you think they're all right, Paris and the others?" she said, coming out of the tent. Balian put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. Even in these dire circumstances, his touch still sent sparks shooting down her spine.

"It's Legolas, Paris and Will that we're talking about," said Balian, although inside he did not feel half as confident. "Three brilliant minds, two great warriors; of course they'll be fine. I have faith in them. Let's go."

* * *

Will stayed low until deep into the night. When the signal came, it took him by surprise. 'And Achilles didn't even have gunpowder,' he thought, and then he remembered. They had given him the _Dutchman_'s entire stash of rum, much to Jack and the crew's chagrin. 'Oh well, he can always grovel at Barbossa's feet for some from the _Pearl_.' Dodging running men, he made his way to where the slaves were being kept. Acrid smoke filled the night.

* * *

Orange flared in the sky, lighting up the clouds with a sickly warm glow. Legolas could not help but grin. Their friends had come for them. He shook Paris awake and then reached down with his bound hands into his boot. His back protested at having to bend into such an abnormal position but he ignored it. His fingers grasped the smooth bone handle of one of his small knives. The hilt was warm from his body. He extracted the small blade, thinking the Valar that the Greeks had been too stupid to search him. The elf began sawing at the ropes which bound Paris' hands. In the panicked chaos, their guards did not notice that something else was amiss, until the other captives raised a shout and begged to be freed also. 

"There's an escape!" cried the Greeks, rushing forward with swords drawn to confront the two runaways. Legolas only had his many small knives, and Will's pistol. He threw two of his knives at the guards, felling two of them. The others stopped for a while to regard their dead comrades, but not long enough for Legolas and Paris to run. The elf needed his other knives. He pulled out the pistol and fired. The loud gunshot made the Greeks leap back as one more of their number fell. Before the others could react, the captain made a gurgling noise as the tip of a long slender iron blade covered in a net of dark blood emerged from his chest.

Legolas leapt into action. The two small blades in his hands were a deadly blur of silver. He pressed the handle of one into Paris' hand just as Will threw him a familiar looking long knife. He caught his old companion by the hilt. "Took you long enough!" he called to Will as he slashed at a soldier's throat.

"Things didn't quite go according to plan!" replied Will. "Someone saw me for what I was. Had to fight off a lot of them by myself." Once they had finished with the guards, they freed the other prisoners, at Paris' insistence.

"Now move!" shouted Legolas. "To the coast! To the..." He didn't get to finish his sentence. A Greek arrow sprouted from his shoulder, just missing his heart by inches. He took a sharp intake of breath as the pain hit him.

"Legolas!" shouted Will, immediately firing at the man who had shot the elf.

"Lead them on, Will," gasped Legolas. "I'm fine."

"To hell you are," scoffed the young pirate, half carrying him. "I'm not leaving you behind." But Legolas' crippling wound was only the first of their misfortunes. Greeks now surrounded them with a ring of inward pointing spearheads. The ring tightened, like a noose around a condemned man's neck. The Trojans shrank back against each other. Both Legolas and Will simultaneously reached for their pistols, all the while remaining in fighting stance, although the elf's wounded arm was rendered useless. Will glanced at his friends worriedly. They all knew that they could not win; they only had a limited number of shots in their pistols. Still, they were determined to make victory difficult and long in coming for their enemies.

"Let them not say in the years to come that the Trojan spirit broke in the face of adversity," said Paris softly.

* * *

It occurred to Achilles that Balian and the others did not trust him fully. That was why his part in this plan was so passive; they were afraid that he would betray them. 'Sometimes men are too suspicious for their own good,' he thought. He would prove to them that he was not Agamemnon's mercenary. "Eudoras, go down to the coast and tell Balian that we've gone to help the others," he said. With that, he ran, sword in hand, to prove that he was not on the Trojans' side just because he happened to be there.

* * *

The Myrmidon warrior called Eudoras joined Balian and Cassandra on the beach. The Trojan princess looked alarmed by the presence of the Greeks at first and then that expression became one of confusion. She was, however, to breathless to say anything. Eudoras opened his mouth to relay Achilles' message but there was a strange expression on Balian's face, as if he was speaking to the gods. His eyes were unfocused. 

"What's wrong?" demanded Eudoras. This man unnerved him.

"Something's happened," said Balian. He turned to run back towards the Greek camp. "I'm going back to help the others." The Myrmidon warrior made to stop him.

"Achilles and the other men have gone to help," said Eudoras. "They'll be fine."

Balian shook his head and pushed past Eudoras. "Look after the princess, and take her to the ships!" he called without looking back. Cassandra sent a swift prayer up to any god who might happen to be listening, asking them to protect the man she loved.

* * *

Balian charged into the melee, his sword hacking, splitting skulls as if they were melons. He found Legolas, Will, Paris and the others soon enough, engaged in a battle for their lives. The elf was wounded. His movements, although still lethal, was not as graceful. The blacksmith, who was not a graceful fighter to begin with, charged with the finesse and force of a rampaging angel to his friend's side, his sword cleaving in every direction. In the midst of the fighting, Legolas managed a grin. "I thought you were supposed to adhere to the Pirates' Code," he said. 

"I'm a _knight_," retorted Balian. "That puts me out of their jurisdiction." With the unexpected reinforcements, the Trojans and their comrades were able to batter their way out. Once at the shore, Will took the wounded Legolas by the arm and they both vanished, only to materialize on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_. The rest of them rowed, shielded by cannon fire — something which Agamemnon's troops mistook for the wrath of Zeus. Screaming prayers in fear, they backed away and ended the pursuit.

The Trojans, the Myrmidon and the others were hauled onto the deck by the pirates. "Got into a spot of trouble, I see," said Jack.

"Troubles which arose, ensued, were overcome," said Will. Legolas looked pale. His shirt and tunic were soaked in blood.

"That is not the 'ichor which flows in the veins of a god," said Eudoras.

"I never claimed to be a god," said Legolas through gritted teeth "apart from that one time." Will lowered him to the deck.

"Is it deep?" he asked.

"I think I'll live," said the elf.

"I'll be the judge of that," said Balian. "You look terrible."

"Bloody awful," supplied Jack "'scuse the pun." He glared at Will. "Now, tell me, why is the rum always gone?"

"It was for a good cause, Jack," said Will, who was not in the mood to engage in another petty argument; the type which Jack always won. He went below deck to find something which could act as antiseptic and also to look for linen bandages.

Balian scrutinized the wound. He had no knowledge of healing skills. He was always the one receiving treatment, not delivering it.

"Anything I can do to help, lad?" asked Bootstrap Bill kindly.

"Do you know how to remove arrows?" asked Balian.

"Dunno about arrows, lad, but bullets, I've done a couple of those."

"See if you can pull it out slowly so that the arrowhead doesn't break off," hissed Legolas. Balian swallowed. He was not squeamish usually, but he was afraid that if he made a mistake, he would worsen his friend's situation.

"Maybe I should do this," Bootstrap said to Balian, seeing the younger man grow tense and nervous. "You hold your friend still."

Legolas jerked as Bootstrap extracted the arrow, with the bloody arrowhead still attached to the shaft. "That went better than it usually does," he said hoarsely. Sweat gleamed on his brow.

Will came back up with a bottle of absinthe and linen bandages in his arms. "Can someone go down to remind Paris and Helen that the captain's quarters belong to me, and they should leave it the way they found it after they're done with...whatever they're doing?"

"Why didn't _you_ tell them?" asked Jack. Will turned red.

"Oh, I get it now," said Jack. "I guess _someone's_ not a eunuch then."

"Captain Barbossa!" called Legolas. "Can you please shoot Jack for me?"

"My pleasure, Master Greenleaf," said Barbossa. He reached for his gun, and then remembered that Jack had it.

"Sparra!" he shouted. "Where be me gun?"

"Dunno," called Jack innocently. "Gave it to the Whelp."

"Will!" said Legolas. "Shoot Jack!"

"I can't. My hands are full,' said Will. He soaked a clean rag in absinthe and began to bathe Legolas' wound. The elf hissed.

"What is that?" he demanded. "It smells foul."

"Absinthe," said Will. "Strong stuff." He offered Legolas the bottle. "Don't let it hit your tongue. It might just knock you off your feet."

"I'm already off my feet." Legolas took a sip, and then blinked several times.

"You mean you drink this?" said Balian curiously, reaching for the bottle. Legolas held it out of his grasp.

"Uh, Balian, I've seen how you react to ale," said the elf. "I don't think I should let you try this."

"Come on, Legolas. I'm a grown man."

"You're a mere babe by my standards."

"You tried it. You have no right to say I can't try it."

"My dear Balian, Baby Balian, trust your elders when they tell you not to do something. It's for your own good."

Balian pressed his lips together in a tight line so that the skin around his mouth was white under the beard. He clenched his fists. Legolas was nonplussed; he knew that in this state, Balian would never try to tackle him. He was right. The blacksmith stormed down below deck.

Legolas handed the bottle of absinthe back to Will. "How did you manage to keep that from Jack?" he asked.

"It's the captain's private stash," said Will, corking the bottle. "I have the only key to the cupboard."

"You men are confusing. Why would you want to poison yourselves with this?"

"It takes my mind off the lack of a heart in my chest, Legolas. I didn't think I would miss my heartbeat so much, but I do."

Cassandra had watched this whole exchange. Her nervousness was fading, now that the old man, Bootstrap, was steering the ship away from Mycenae. Shyly, she approached Balian's friends. "What is that?" she asked, indicating the bottle. "Why won't you let Balian taste it?"

"My lady," began Legolas with a benevolent smile and a mischievous glint in his eye. "Let me tell you something about our beloved friend. He is the worst drinker in all of history. Last time we had a competition, he was the first to become intoxicated, and he'd only had eighteen mugs of not very strong drink. This...absinthe would really knock him off his feet before I could shoot an arrow."

Achilles snatched the bottle from Will. "Well, since even Balian is not allowed to drink it, I deem it worthy of a man," he said, taking a large swig. Before he even swallowed it, his face went red and his eyes seemed to bulge. He spat out the mouthful and then glared at Eudoras who was trying to suppress his laughter. "I think I'll stick to wine," he gasped, wiping his mouth.

Will was able to retake his bottle of absinthe and stow it away safely, even though Jack was begging him for just one sip. "Beg Barbossa for rum," he told the pirate. Jack gave Will a doleful look.

"You really do owe me a lot of rum, William Turner," he grumbled.

Cassandra smiled to herself. So her perfect man did have some flaws after all. She sighed. Somehow, his being less than perfect made her love him more. The gods really had sent Balian, but not for Troy. They had sent him to her.

* * *

**A/N: **Balian's little problem grows, the poor guy. He's not really equipped to deal with such things, and Paris is too busy to advise him on anything at the moment. Anyway, reviews please? (author makes pathetic puppy eyes) 


	22. Reunions

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 22: Reunions**

"Right," said Will as they sat down to discuss what they were going to do. "Where to next? We have two boatfuls of refugees with no home and I can't possibly take them with me to World's End. They belong in this world."

"Epirus," said Achilles suddenly. Everyone looked at him in surprise. They had not expected him to contribute anything. "That's my country. I am king there. They will be safe, and they can make new homes."

"I thought Agamemnon was the king," said Balian in surprise.

"He's just one king amongst the many in Greece," said Achilles darkly. "It just happens so that he has the biggest army, that's all and politically, I can't win over him, so I must be his ally."

"The scruples of politics," said Legolas knowingly.

"I hate it," said Achilles. "This title of king has always governed me."

"Duty governs all of us," said Will quietly, putting a hand over where his heart was meant to be. "Sometimes we don't have a choice."

Jack made a face. The very word 'duty' made him feel ill. Paris simply glowered at Achilles. Reconciliation was long in coming for those two.

The destination was decided upon. The rest of them decided that they could work on relations between Achilles and Paris later, and they sailed to Epirus. Although they still hadn't forgiven the man for killing Hector, they were grateful for his help during the attempt to rescue Paris. If it hadn't been for Achilles, there would've been heavy casualties.

Achilles country didn't even look much like a town, much less a nation. The houses were few and sparse. Plants grew wild. The ruins of a temple overlooked the coast. The Trojan refugees whispered excitedly to each other. They could see opportunities in this untamed land. Achilles turned to Eudoras, who was barely suppressing his delight at being home again.

"No man could have had a better friend," said the proud warrior. It was high praise, coming from his lips.

"It has been my life's honour to serve you, my lord," said Eudoras.

"Take up my seat in the great hall," said Achilles suddenly. "The people know you and love you."

"What about you, my lord? You are the king."

"I _was_ the king," said Achilles "no longer." He glanced over at Briseis, who was talking animatedly to Cassandra. "I don't want to be king anymore, and I was never a very good king." He grinned. The expression was alien on Achilles' face.

And so it was decided. Eudoras returned home as the new king of Epirus and Achilles sailed away with the woman he loved.

* * *

Balian could feel Cassandra's eyes following him as he hoisted the sails. It made him uncomfortable and he resolved to ask Paris for advice as soon as possible. He finished tying the knot and then went to find Paris, who was at the helm talking with Will.

"Paris," said Balian, feeling self conscious. "I need to talk to you. I need some advice."

Paris seemed surprised. It wasn't everyday that someone asked him for advice, and he'd never thought that the someone would be Balian.

"I'll be happy to help in any way I can," said Paris.

"It's about your sister and...the way she...feels about me," began Balian awkwardly. "I know she's your sister, and I do love her, just not the way she wants..." He realized how bad it all sounded and rubbed a hand over his face. "Oh dear God..." he muttered.

"I realized," said Paris. "And...really, there is nothing you can do except talk to her about how you feel. I can talk to her if you want, but I don't think she'll believe me until it comes from your mouth."

Balian further muttered something incomprehensible. He sounded mortified. Will thought that his friend must be cursing in one of the other languages which he alone on this ship knew. The pirate pitied him. Being the brave defender of so many cities really didn't help when it came to delicate matters such as this. And Balian was not a very prolific speaker to begin with.

"We'll all be giving you moral support," said Will encouragingly.

"Right now I need to muster my courage," groaned Balian. Legolas, who had heard everything from the crow's nest, jumped down and landed like a cat on his feet next to his friend.

"She's a young woman," said the elf. "After fighting orcs, trolls and balrogs, talking to a young woman can't be that frightening."

"Gandalf fought the balrog," said Balian, as if that explained the terror that was showing on his face. "I think I'd prefer a troop of trolls to this."

"So would I," said Will.

* * *

_The fires of Hell surrounded him, burning, burning. Sweat ran down his face in rivulets. His mouth was dry with fear. Tortured souls reached out to him from the flames, snagging his clothes and hair with their charred fingers. He knew he had to stay on the path. From the fires, a figure emerged, still recognizable despite the terrible injuries inflicted on her. His heart almost stopped. "Jocelyn!" he cried, running off the path towards his wife. She turned to look at him. Just before he could reach her and take her into his arms, everything faded into empty blackness. The flames of Hell disappeared, and his wife along with them. HE was left alone in the dark. A disembodied voice sounded around him. He recognized it as being that of Michael, the Archangel. _

"_You may go there now," said the angel's voice. "You have proven yourself worthy of saving your wife's soul from eternal damnation."_

"_But how do I get there?" Balian asked._

"_The answer is before your eyes," said Michael..._

Someone was shaking him awake. "Balian, wake up. You're having a bad dream," said Will's voice. The blacksmith's eyes opened. Will Turner, Captain of the _Flying Dutchman_, ferryman of souls. He scrambled to his feet.

"Will, I need to go to World's End now," he said. "I need to get to Hell."

Will goggled at him. "Why?" he stammered.

"I have to save my wife. Please, Will. It's urgent!"

"Right," said the pirate. "Wake everyone and tell them where we're heading, and tell them to hang on!"

"What, what?" said Jack, jumping to his feet.

"Wake the others!" shouted Balian. "We're going to Hell!"

"What?!"

"I said, we're going to Hell!"

"_Why_?!"

By now, this commotion had woken everyone on board the _Flying Dutchman _and the _Black Pearl_.

"Is there a reason why you have a sudden desire to go into Satan's lair, Master Balian?" drawled Barbossa from the other ship.

"What's Hell, and what's Satan?" asked Paris.

"Hell is where bad people like _Barbossa _go after they die, to be punished for eternity," explained Jack."Satan is another name for the Devil, who is the Lord of Hell."

"Oh," said Briseis in a small voice as understanding dawned on her. Unconsciously, she leaned closer to Achilles, seeking comfort in his presence. "Tartarus."

"So...why does Balian want to go to the place of eternal damnation?" asked Achilles, wondering if the man whom he held in such high esteem had suddenly gone mad.

"I need to save my wife," said Balian.

"Their child died, and she killed herself," explained Legolas, looking sympathetically at his friend who seemed to be reliving the agony of those days, when he had first held his stillborn child and then later, had cut his wife's body from the rafters.

Achilles drew Briseis close to him and held her close. He could not even bear to imagine losing her. Will was shouting orders to the crew while steering the ship with expertise.

"Hold on!" shouted the captain. Balian caught sight of Andromache with Astyanax, and he felt a stab of guilt. Such a venture was very dangerous for her baby, and they all knew it. He waved her over to the rigging, where there was a number of hand holds.

"I promised Hector I won't let anything happen to you," he said as he latched onto the rope of either side of her so that his body shielded her and her baby. "I'm a man of my word."

"I trust you, Balian," said Andromache "but Tartarus isn't exactly an easy place to get to and get out of. You won't be able to control what happens." She clung to the rope with one hand and her baby with the other for all she was worth.

"I need to go. There is no other way."

"Captain Turner!" shouted Barbossa. "Is there any way we can join in this little venture? I have a feelin' there's somethin' else at World's End other than just the dead."

"Whelp...I mean...Will! Don't tell him!" hollered Jack as he began to panic. He had finally deciphered his map. "There's a way from World's End to the location of the Fountain of Youth!"

"The _Pearl _can't go unless it's by the usual way!" said Will "But you're more than welcome to join us if you promise to keep an eye on Jack!"

"Oi!" said Jack. "I thought you were my friend!"

"I'll be more than happy to oblige," said Barbossa with a malicious glint in his eye.

"And Jack cannot be harmed," added Will hastily. "No funny business. I know you can worm your way out of most promises."

Barbossa looked insulted. "You seem to be thinkin' that I have no honour," he said.

"You're a pirate," scoffed Will. "Of course you have no honour."

"Can we talk later?" demanded Balian, who was getting impatient. "We're wasting time!"

Barbossa boarded the _Dutchman_, having left one of Will's more trusted crewmembers in charge of the _Pearl_. He didn't trust his own crew —or rather, what remained of it— enough.

The _Dutchman _began to sink beneath the waves. The wind was howling, but the seas around them were calm. It seemed that only the ghostly ship was affected. The waves closed over their heads. There was a flash of green light, and then they were in the air again, coughing and spluttering. Astyanax protested loudly about his midnight dunking.

"So _this _is the world of the Dead," said Achilles.

"Pretty much," said Jack. "If I hadn't saved you, you would've been here."

Achilles rolled his eyes and resolved to pay Jack back as soon as possible. It was embarrassing to be reminded of how he survived every second hour.

Legolas surveyed his surroundings with narrowed eyes. It was much darker than it had been last time. The only light came from the ship, illuminating the murky waters around it with eerie green light. Everything was still and silent, and dead. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he found that they were actually on a wide river. "The River Styx," explained Will. "This area is out of my jurisdiction but Charon does not mind my intrusions as long as I don't interfere with his work." The young pirate sighed. "There are so many lost souls wandering listlessly around because they did not receive the proper burial rites. I wish I could help them."

"Where is your area?" asked Balian, coming to join his friends at the helm of the ship.

"Downriver, in the ocean," replied Will.

"And where's Hell?"

"On an offshore island. I don't go by there if I can help it."

Cassandra had to admire Balian's devotion to his late wife, and she was very jealous of the woman. She had abandoned Balian, and she did not deserve a man who would go to Tartarus to save her unworthy soul. 'At least she can't come back and claim him,' thought Cassandra. 'That would be most unfair.' She watched her beloved warrior pacing on the deck, his brow furrowed in a frown. He stopped beside her brother and peered out into the cloying fog.

From the gloomy mist along the shores, gleaming white eyes peered out at them. Paris saw many of his compatriots on the wrong side of the river. "Is there really no way to help them?" he demanded.

"Not unless they find their way to my area or you go back to the world of the Living and give them all proper burials," said Will. He pulled out his spyglass and peered through it. "We are nearing my port, where I pick up souls."

"That's nice," said Jack dryly. "We get to share the ship with dead people other than the Whelp and Barbossa's scraggly little rat."

"It's a monkey," said Legolas.

Suddenly, Paris gave a start. He saw Priam standing on the wrong bank of the Styx. Unfortunately, Hecuba saw her late husband too, and all her memories came flooding back. "Priam?" she shrieked. Before anyone could stop her, the Queen of Troy flung herself over the rails and into the river, fighting desperately against the current to get to her husband. Paris made to jump in after his mother, but he was held back by his friends.

"If you enter these waters, your soul will remain here forever," said Will. "It is not your time to die, Paris."

"But my mother..." began Paris. With the help of the souls on the wrong side of the river, who had thrown her a rope, Hecuba scrambled onto land. She became as insubstantial as the rest of the souls even as Priam embraced her. Her eyes shone with joy. The king and queen waved to their remaining children.

"Make us proud, Paris," called the king. "You're becoming more of a man than anyone has ever expected. Look after your sisters and your brother's wife, and Astyanax of course."

"Give them our love," said Hecuba.

Paris nodded mutely. He could not speak for the lump in his throat. "They're at peace," Legolas told them quietly.

Achilles was very uncomfortable. There were too many familiar faces, on both sides of the Styx. "Achilles! Over here!" That was a voice he knew very well.

"Patroclus!" he shouted. "Where are you?"

"Over here!" Through the mist, the Greek warrior could make out an excited figure jumping up and down, waving. "What are you doing here, Achilles?" asked Patroclus. "And why do you have a different boatman? He seems nicer than Charon. Haven't I seen him somewhere before, as in Troy?"

"I'm not dead, Patroclus, not yet. And yes, you have seen Will before in Troy, from a distance. Have you seen Hector around?"

"Hector? Is he dead? No, I haven't seen him, but this is a very big place."

"That's good to know," said Achilles sarcastically, but he was grinning with the joy of seeing his cousin again. Paris watched this from further down the boat, his bitter pain almost overwhelming him. Achilles got to talk to his cousin again, but he'd just lost his mother and he couldn't see Hector anywhere.

* * *

After many hours of sailing down the Styx, they finally reached open water, and Will's port. It was crammed with souls, all clamouring to be let on board. Will lowered the gangplank, and then he heard a familiar voice which made him jump. "I see you _didn't_ manage to save Troy," said Hector.

* * *

**A/N: **I suppose this whole going to Hell to rescue the damsel in distress thing is totally off topic. (Balian insisted on it by the way. He can be _very_ persuasive when he puts his mind to it). Reviews please? 


	23. Into the Fire

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector...you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

**Chapter 23: Into the Fire**

Everyone gaped at the spectre of the late Prince of Troy. For someone who was naught but a spirit, he looked extremely solid.

"What...what are you doing here?" stuttered Will. "You...Styx..."

"By rights, that is indeed where I should be," said Hector "but when I first got to the Underworld, I thought I'd never get the coins to pay the boatman, so I wandered, and ended up here. These souls told me that the ferryman who docks here didn't take payment, so I thought I'd have a better chance if I stayed here." Hector shrugged. "I met some interesting characters, I have to say."

"Captain Turner," said one of the other souls. "I see you've gotten yourself involved in more misadventures. Prince Hector has told me about all of them, including your divine masquerade."

Will blushed. "That was in the service of a friend, Commodore — Admiral Norrington," he said.

"Just 'James', thank you," said James Norrington. "The dead have no ranks."

"So stop calling me 'Prince Hector'," said Hector.

"Sorry. Old habits die hard. No pun intended."

"Why don't you come aboard, Hector and James?" said Will. "Everyone wants to see Hector and I'm sure they wouldn't mind meeting you either, James...well, at least some of them won't mind."

"No, no, clear out Davy Jones' backlog first," said James. "I can wait a while longer. It isn't fair otherwise."

"Hector, come aboard," said Paris in a cajoling tone. "Andromache really needs to see you. _I _need to see you."

Hector hesitated. His honour conflicted with his desire to be with his family again. He looked to James for his opinion. James shrugged. "What can I say? You have a family. Of course they take priority over everything," said the dead seaman. "Don't worry about leaving me all alone, not that I will be alone. I was fine before you came and I'll be fine now."

"I'll see you on the other side, James," said Hector.

"Say hello to your little boy for me," said James, waving as Hector climbed up the gangplank "and give my greetings to your wife."

"Who would've known?" said Jack as the ship pulled away from the dock. "That man is actually decent."

"I'm sure Elizabeth would've told you before," said Will. "James is only here because he was, uh, _killed_ while protecting her."

"So anyone who's good to your bonnie lass is a good man, is that what you're saying?"

"Yes," said Will bluntly.

"So by your standards, _Hector Barbossa_ is a good man?" Both Hector and Barbossa turned to see what was going on.

"Well, no, since he kidnapped Elizabeth that time."

"You still ain't forgiven me for that, Cap'n Turner?" said Barbossa lazily, sounding as if he didn't care at all. "I'm hurt. And don't use me full name, Jack Sparrow."

"It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, and I'll call you what I want, savvy?" said Jack, and then he ran, catching an unsuspecting Balian and using him as a shield. Barbossa lunged at Jack, only to crash into the blacksmith who happened to be in the wrong place at the right time. All three of them went down in a heap.

"Hector Barbossa?" asked Hector as the crew pulled the three men apart.

"Hector is his real name," explained Will. "Barbossa is his family name. It's more like Hector of the house of Barbossa, as in you're Hector of the House of Assaracus."

"So in your world, I'd be Hector Assaracus?"

"Pretty much."

"Thanks, mate," said Jack, grinning at Balian. The blacksmith rolled his eyes. His mood had not been great lately. He had been plagued by dreams of his dead wife in hell and his sleep had not been restful at all. He pushed past Jack and climbed up to the crow's nest, peering far into the distance; unknown to him, it was in the wrong direction.

"Uh, Balian?" called Will. "Hell's actually quite far away and we don't get there for some time, so why don't you come down and we'll do something to pass the time?" The young captain signalled discreetly to his father, who nodded. Bootstrap went below deck and came back up with cups and dice.

"Come and join an old man in a game of Liar's Dice," said Bootstrap, setting out the game pieces.

"Aye, come down, and stop looking as if the rum's all gone," said Jack. "It'll be good! You'll finally learn the most important skill in life."

"And what is that, Jack Sparrow?" said Balian as he climbed down.

"Lying, and getting away wif it," said Jack "and it's _Captain _Jack Sparrow to you, my boy."

This time, it was Barbossa who stopped Balian from throttling Jack.

"He is in a really bad mood," observed Legolas as Barbossa managed to calm the young man down. "I've never seen him like this before."

"The thought of his wife burning in Hell must be driving him mad, especially now that he's having those dreams all the time," said Will. "There hasn't been a single night when we haven't had to wake him up from a nightmare."

"Well, I'm in for a game," said Achilles loudly, trying to lighten the mood. "Care to join me, anyone?"

Soon, Achilles, Balian, Legolas and Bootstrap were sitting down to a game of Liar's Dice. "The loser has to down a mug of rum," called Will as he steered the ship.

"I thought we didn't have any rum left," said Jack.

"How do you think we get rum when we've been out here for a few years now?" asked Will. "Calypso restocks it every now and then." Jack immediately ran below deck. There was a whoop of joy some moments later.

As it turned out, Balian was a terrible liar. Within three games, he was less sober than Jack Sparrow. And his singing voice was even worse than his lying skills.

Barbossa hastily ushered the drunken blacksmith below deck and locked him in the captain's cabin. Legolas was grimacing as if in agony. "Remind me never to make him drunk again," he said.

"Your memory must be atrocious then if you need reminding," said Will.

Little Astyanax, being a rather poor judge of music, clapped his fat little hands delightedly and giggled. A stream of drool ran down his chin. Hector bounced the baby on his knee while Andromache leaned against him with her head resting on his shoulder.

"I didn't know souls could feel so solid," she murmured.

"This is the world of the Dead," said Hector. "Nothing is as we expect it to be."

"I never expected to see you again, at least, not without dying."

"For a moment, I almost panicked when I saw you."

Cassandra sat a slight distance away from the couple, watching them. She wondered whether she would ever have such an existence with the man she loved. He seemed oblivious to her feelings and lately, had had been too occupied with his late wife to pay the princess much attention. Such devotion only made her want him more. Unbeknownst to her, she was being watched.

"How do we convince her that he's not the right one for her?" said Helen to Paris. "This can't go on. She'll only end up getting hurt, and putting him in a very awkward position."

"The only way is to have Balian tell her himself," said Paris. "I know my sister. She won't believe us."

"You know that this is nigh impossible. Balian is a good and talented man, but he is not the most prolific speaker. Do you think she'll listen if Hector or Andromache spoke to her?"

"I'll talk to Hector about it."

Unfortunately for Paris, and Balian, Hector's response was totally unexpected. "Cassandra truly does know how to choose a man," said the older prince. "He is worthy of any princess."

"Yes, yes," said Paris impatiently "but he is not in love with our sister. He still loves his Sibylla, and his late wife. He can't forget them."

"Paris, Sibylla abandoned him. That is enough to shatter any bond between them, surely. As for his late wife, once he's saved her from eternal damnation, he'll be ready to move on."

The younger prince was not convinced, but Hector would not be persuaded. In the captain's cabin, the subject of their conversation slept fitfully, assailed by drink-induced nightmares.

* * *

The sky above Hell was perpetually dark, save for the unnatural glow of eternal fires. The island itself was surrounded by treacherous rocks, jutting out from the black water like jagged teeth waiting to devour unwary ships. High walls rose on all sides of the island and demons lurked at the gates, preventing anyone from getting out. 

The _Flying Dutchman_ was anchored some distance from the shore. "I can take you no further," said Will to Balian. "The way is too treacherous for the ship to navigate through. We must take one of the boats."

Balian didn't say anything. His face was a mask of determination. He simply nodded and with the help of the others, lowered a boat down the side of the ship. Balian climbed in, and was joined by Legolas, Will, and Achilles. Hector made to follow them but Will stopped him. "It's too dangerous, Hector," he said. "You are one of the dead and if you pass through those gates, you will never get out." Paris was also persuaded not to join in the venture into the Devil's lair. Despite his intelligence, he would only be a hindrance as he was no warrior and he was not afraid to throw away his honour, something which made him extremely vulnerable to the evil which lurked behind the high walls.

Jack and Barbossa elected to stay behind and look after the ship in conjunction with Bootstrap. Up until know, Bootstrap and Barbossa had been ignoring each other. However, due to their need to cooperate in this unfamiliar and dangerous territory, they reluctantly put aside their personal grievances, carefully avoiding topics such as mutinies or Aztec gold.

"I wonder if you'll see ole Cutler Beckett there," said Jack to Will as the latter prepared for this latest venture.

"If he is here, then it would be because I brought him here," said Will. "I don't remember seeing him on my ship so no, he's probably no here, unless Charon has been breaking the rules and ferrying the souls of those who die at sea as well. He wouldn't have taken Beckett anyway. Beckett didn't have the right sort of funeral, if he had one at all."

"Pity. If he was in there, I would've liked to gloat."

"Be careful what you wish for, Jack," warned Will. "Such uncharitable thoughts might mean that you could get sent in there, and no one will be able to save you from Hell."

"Oh bugger all."

The murky waters had an unnatural oily film on the surface, gleaming with the hues of a corrupted rainbow. No one in the boat spoke. Balian focused all his energy on rowing and all the others were too uncomfortable to start a conversation. The very atmosphere of this place was enough to make Legolas want to shudder. The dark tendrils of evil seemed to be attempting to wrap themselves around him, like a strangling fingers. The elf pressed his lips together and tried to think of something pleasant, like the Golden Wood, but whenever he put together an image of Lothlorien, the trees were bare and dying; their golden leaves had long turned to dust. Everything was devoid of life, no matter how hard he tried to conjure up other images.

The Gates of Hell were wide open like the maw of some leviathan from which hot fiery breath issued. Balian muttered prayers in Latin under his breath. "Ave Maria, grazia pleina; dominus tecum..." he said, glaring at the demons at the gates. Maybe it was the prayer, maybe it was the fierce determination that was emanating from him; maybe it was both—it didn't really matter that much to him. The main thing was that the demons made no move to stop them from getting onto the shore and they stepped aside as the blacksmith strode purposefully towards the gates.

The stench of burning hair and skin, and the screams of the damned almost overwhelmed them. Achilles took an involuntary step backwards, but his path was blocked by the servants of Satan. "Once you're in, there's no way out," they hissed. "The Master will not let any of his charges go. We know what you want, but it is a futile gesture on your behalf. She belongs to him now."

Balian stopped in his tracks and turned around to face the demons. They met his eyes and their confidence wavered. "We'll see about that," growled the man. "I will fight him for my wife's freedom if I must."

"You will die!" they snarled, and then shrank back pathetically as Balian advanced upon them like an angel of justice.

"Don't waste your time with those, Balian," called Will. "You will need all your strength if you're to get your wife out of here."

"How will you find her?" asked Legolas. Balian had never seen the elf so nervous.

"I'll follow my heart," replied the man. "My instincts will tell me."

"That's comforting," said Legolas with only a hint of his usual sarcasm. "Your instincts led you to head butt an orc with a helmet once."

"Trust me," said Balian. "I think I know what I'm doing."

"I do trust you," said Legolas. "That makes me a bigger fool than most, in situations like this one."

In amidst the flames there was a barely discernable path. At the sides were the tortured souls, reaching out with bony charred hands to grab at the living intruders, moaning in their agony and their desperate desire to leave this place. They clawed at the intruders' clothes.

"Balian! Save me!" Balian whipped around on hearing this voice.

"Who's calling me?" he demanded. One of the damned souls waved to catch his eye. It was his brother, still clothed in his priest's garb but looking nothing like a man of God. "Guillaume?"

"Balian, I beg you, please save me!" Gone was the arrogant air which had surrounded Guillaume in life. The Hellish fires had eaten away his dignity. He was now not too proud to grovel at the feet of the bastard brother he had once scorned.

Balian hesitated. There was no affection between him and Guillaume but despite everything, Guillaume was still his brother. They had come from the same womb and Guillaume's father had raised Balian as his own son.

"Only one may leave with you," said Michael's voice inside his head. "Choose wisely, Balian son of Godfrey."

"I'm sorry, Guillaume," said Balian after pondering the angel's words. "I can't help you."

"But I'm your brother!" wailed Guillaume.

"I came for Jocelyn."

"Unlike her, you truly do deserve this fate," said Legolas to Balian's brother unsympathetically.

"What happened to him?" Achilles asked Will.

"He provoked Balian to kill him, in a nutshell," replied Will

"Balian killed his brother in a nutshell?" said a very confused Achilles. "How is that possible?"

"What I mean is that to put it simply, he provoked Balian to kill him," said Will.

"Oh."

The further they ventured into Hell, the more intense the heat became. Sweat ran down their faces in rivulets and soaked their clothes, but they quickly dried. Their mouths became parched and started to taste of old leather. And then suddenly, the path stopped. The three men and one elf stared at the dead end with disbelief. Beyond that was a field of fire, riddled with rivers and lakes of molten rock.

"What do we do now?" asked Achilles.

"True gold fears no fire," said Balian, striding stubbornly into the flames. At once, he felt as if he was being burned alive. He opened his mouth to scream in agony, but no sound came out. Only sheer determination made him go on. He was doing this for Jocelyn. Everything was worth getting her out of Hell. The pain subsided as abruptly as the path had ended. Behind him, he heard cursing. So his companions did care enough to come after him.

"You are the maddest thing, both alive and dead," panted Legolas. Balian did not respond. The blacksmith was staring directly ahead of him, where scantily clad people of breathtaking beauty lounged on cushions of silk. Fornications of every sort were taking place. There were platters of succulent meats and goblets of wine, and they were dining well. The others beckoned to the travellers with their seductive voices, inviting them to join in the devilish merrymaking.

* * *

_**Stay tuned...**_

A CLASH OF EPIC PROPORTIONS...

_Jerusalem fades into Minas Tirith._

_Minas Tirith fades into a ship on the open ocean._

_Jack bumps his head on the rafters of a hobbit hole._

_**Jack:**_Where the hell are we?

A NEW DEVILRY ARISES...

_A dark hooded figure stands up. _

_Guy smiles and raises his sword._

_**Guy:**_ We close in on Minas Tirith.

A FELLOWSHIP SEPARATED...

_Legolas peers out into a storm on the ocean. He is in a ship. _

_Balian glares defiantly at Richard Coeur de Lion. _

_Will entertains Merry and Pippin. _

_Barbossa shoots an orc._

_Paris greets Aragorn. _

_**Balian: **(to Andromache)_ I wonder where the others are now

THREE DIFFERENT BATTLES...

_Legolas and Elizabeth stand back to back pointing guns at the surrounding redcoats. _

_Paris shoots a fell beast while Will fights a haradrim. _

_Balian draws his sword and prepares to fight Templars._

REUNIONS OF ALL SORTS...

_Balian and Imad clasp hands._

_Aragorn embraces Legolas. _

_Faramir and Balian greet each other._

_Will and Elizabeth kiss. _

_Balian kisses Sibylla._

_Guy fights Balian._

AND MEETINGS...

_**Balian: **__(to Richard)_ I will not serve.

_Aragorn eyes Jack warily._

_Merry, Pippin, Gimli, Ragetti and Pintel partake in a drinking game. _

_Elizabeth practises sword fighting with Éowyn. _

_Imad looks Barbossa up and down._

_Balian embraces a small dark-haired child with blue eyes. There are tears in Balian's eyes. _

FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE CHANCE ENCOUNTER SERIES AND PRELUDE TO HEAVEN

COMES

_**CHANCE ENCOUNTER: RETURN TO MIDDLE EARTH**_

**COMING SOON**

**ON**

**FF-NET**

(Lord of the Rings section)

**A/N:** Here's my version of Hell. Because of my religion, the images are decidedly Christian, although I have tried to deviate from the usual stereotypes. Suffice to say that I haven't been too successful, I think. Anyway, here's a little wee trailer for a Christmas present :P I'll put up the video version soon.

**HAPPY FESTIVE SEASON EVERYONE!**


	24. True Love Fears No Fire

**Chance Encounter: Pirate Kingdom of Troy**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Balian, Legolas, Will, Jack, Paris, Hector ... you get the idea. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?

Video Trailer for _Chance Encounter: Return to Middle Earth_: www (dot) youtube (dot) com/watch?v (equals) rvCDqpD09dI _without the spaces_

**Chapter 24: True Love Fears No Fire**

The four travellers gaped wordlessly at the scene before them. They were creatures of flesh and blood after all, and such images affected them immensely. Balian wished he could close his eyes but he couldn't. He had never seen such blatantly carnal sights and was driven by disgusted curiosity.

"Come," said the demons, beckoning to them. "Join our feasting. There are seldom travellers who make it this far. Drink, and make merry. No rules, no duties, bind us here. You are free to do whatever you wish, whenever you wish."

Will swallowed and tried to keep his mind on Elizabeth, but the demons' voices were intoxicating. He found them drowning out his conscience and his common sense. After the horrors which they had been through, he found it awfully tempting to give into the invitations.

Legolas saw the effect of the demons on his friends, and he started to get worried. If they gave in, they would be trapped here forever. "They're trying to trap you!" he shouted. "You will be a prisoner forever if you give in!"

The demons, on hearing the elf's resistance to their methods, changed their tactics. They put dark thoughts into the men's minds, making them suspect one another. Balian heard them urging him to kill Achilles. His hand strayed to the hilt of his sword. He restrained himself just in time. "Right," he muttered, straining to keep his sanity. "You've got your tricks. I've got mine." He began to pray, asking for the strength to endure and remain true. Legolas' voice joined his, imploring Iluvatar to help them. Will started to recite the only prayer in Latin he could remember. Their voices drowned out those of the demons, and they were able to continue on their way.

Emotionally drained, the three men and one elf stumbled past the trap of seductive demons and into a barren landscape.

"This is worse than anything I have ever encountered," said Achilles.

"There are some things in this world which strength of arms alone cannot defeat," said Legolas.

"I shouldn't have let you come with me," said Balian. "This is my burden to bear."

"Nonsense," said Will. "We're friends, and friends share burden. Anyway, we came of our own accord."

"As if you could've stopped us from coming," said Legolas, squeezing Balian's shoulder. "We're in this together." He grimaced. "Although next time, someone else should think of the plan."

"My plans work, Legolas," said Balian. "You can't deny that."

"Your successes, my friend, are based on luck which opposes the laws of probability and logic."

"I'm impressed," said Will. "You two can joke in Hell, how can you do that?"

"One thing, Captain Turner," said Legolas. "I'm Legolas Greenleaf, understand?"

Will and Balian looked alarmed. Legolas was more tired than he was willing to admit. They were all exhausted.

"Come on," said Balian, glancing worriedly at the elf "the sooner we find my wife, the sooner we can get out of here." The fiery fields were beginning again. Through the haze of heat, they could see an island in the middle of a lack of molten rock. A young woman was on that island, cowering at the feet of a maliciously beautiful spectre.

"Jocelyn!" cried Balian. He rushed forward, leaping over small streams of lava and paying no heed to the dangers in his path. Demons threw themselves at him to stop his charge. He cut them down. Their foul blood burnt his flesh when it touched his skin. He ignored it. Behind him, he could hear his friends following him. Arrows flew past his head and felled three demons. Gunshots rang out.

* * *

Hector played with Astyanax absent-mindedly as Paris paced on the deck of Will's ship, almost growling with frustration. "You know, if you continue doing that, mate, you might just wear a hole in the deck," Jack pointed out, before taking another swig from his bottle of rum. 

"I'm worried about them," said Paris, looking in the direction of the island of Hell. "They've been gone for so long."

"Something's happened," said Cassandra quietly. Her voice was shaking. "Something terrible. Oh gods...Balian..."

"What's happening?" demanded Paris, whipping around to face his sister. "Oh for the love of the gods, Cassandra, stop speaking in riddles for once and tell me what's wrong!"

"I don't know...it's...it's just a feeling..."

"She is right," said a stranger's voice. They all stopped what they were doing to search for the source. A glowing figure stood serenely at the prow. His shining robes billowed about him as if there was a great wind. The figure's face was hidden by light. None of them could bear to look directly at him. They shielded their eyes with their hands.

"Who...who are you?" demanded Paris.

"Do not be afraid," said the figure. His light diminished until it no longer hurt their eyes. "My name is Michael, and I am known to your friend Balian. I am his guardian."

"Are you a god?" asked Briseis in wonder.

"Nay, I am not a 'god' although you do apply that term to some of my counterparts," said Michael. "For my part, I prefer 'angel'. I don't know whether Balian might have mentioned that word before or not."

"Whaddya want?" said Barbossa, wondering what an angel was doing on their—Will Turner's— ship.

"I have been sent to fetch you, Hector, son of Priam," said the angel, turning to the older prince. "Even we in Heaven have heard of your virtues. The Lord God has a purpose for you."

"Am I to be reborn?" asked Hector.

"No, not reborn. You have been deemed worthy of being a divine warrior."

"And which god has deemed me worthy?"

"There is but one God, and He is the God whom Balian serves." Michael held out a hand. "Come. Your task is quite different from Balian's although your fates will be forever intertwined. The Lord God awaits."

Hector took a step forwards, and then glanced back at his wife and child. Andromache looked frightened while Astyanax was too small to understand what was going on.

"Do not fret," said Michael. "You will see them again, Hector of Troy." Hesitatingly, the prince stepped up to where the angel was. Michael touched him on the shoulder and then they both vanished in a flash of pure light which threatened to blind everyone.

"Good bye, Hector," whispered Andromache, thinking that her husband had crossed to the other side. A tear slipped down her cheek. Helen put her arms around the older woman to offer her what comfort she could. Paris' expression was unreadable.

"It's all for the best, lad," said Barbossa. "There's a better place than any of us have seen."

They waited listlessly on the ship for their friends' return, but the little rowboat remained empty on the shore.

"It's good to know that I'm missed," said Hector's voice. Andromache gave a little scream and Paris forgot to breathe.

"Hector?" he said. "I thought you'd crossed to the other side."

"Unfortunately, my task requires that I stay half way in between the worlds of the dead and the living, making me decidedly 'undead', so to speak," said Hector. He now glowed with divine light and was armoured as if he was going into battle.

"That's...interesting," said Jack.

"I've heard some disturbing news," said Hector. "Our friends have encountered some trouble, as they often do." He jerked his head in the direction of Hell. "I'm going in there to help them."

"I'm coming too," said Paris, running below deck to fetch one of the pirates' strange looking swords.

"Count me in," said Bootstrap. "I'm not staying behind if my son's in trouble."

"I'll be going with ye," said Barbossa. "The Devil's not one to be taken lightly."

"And I will go and rescue the whelp again," said Jack with a flourish. "It won't do to go breaking tradition now, will it?"

"One question," said Briseis. "What about us?"

"Stay, and look after the ship," said the men at once.

Briseis glared at them, but her cousins would not relent. She had no choice but to stay behind. Barbossa had threatened to lock her in the brig. What she did not know was that Will had the keys, making the threat rather empty.

"You know," said Helen gently. "They are right. Someone needs to look after the ship and we know we won't be very useful in there."

"I wish I'd been born a man," said Briseis sulkily.

"If you had been born a man, I doubt that Achilles would've fallen in love with you," reasoned Helen.

Briseis could not think of a reply to that, so she stormed below deck and cast herself on a hammock to sulk.

* * *

Demons with leathery faces and tough translucent wings assailed them. Balian tried to fight them off, but he only had two hands. They clawed at the intruders with their sharp pointed talons. "In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, disperse and trouble us no more!" cried Balian. He wasn't sure whether it would work but this was what the priests back in Europe did to exorcise those who had been possessed by unwholesome spirits. The demons hesitated for a bit, and then resumed the attack. Obviously Balian's faith was not strong enough. Either it was that, or prayers didn't work. The four companions defended themselves as best they could. 

"Back, you sons of bitches!" came Bootstrap's voice. Another arrow flew past their heads and hit a demon squarely in the chest. The reinforcements had arrived. Cuss words in English, French, Elvish, Dwarvish and Greek flew everywhere. There were even a few in the Pelagostos' tongue — courtesy of Jack. The corrupted creatures finally gave up their attack. Too many of them had been killed. Courage was not one of their attributes.

On the island, the spectre raised his hands and clapped slowly, mockingly. "Bravo," he drawled. "I never thought that you'd make it this far, Balian, Holy Warrior of Yahweh."

"Let my wife go, Satan," spat Balian. The master of Hell looked at him with amusement. His eyes were bottomless pits of oozing malice and whenever he smiled, it looked like a sneer on the skull of a dead man.

"That is indeed what you men call me," said the Devil "but I prefer Lucifer."

"You forfeited the right to that name a long time ago," snarled the blacksmith, taking a high guard. Satan laughed.

"My, I must admit that I am surprised. Yahweh's servants have always been foolish but you are by far the most foolish of all of them. Tell me, Balian, what harm do you think your mere mortal weapon can do to me, hmm? You want your wife. I am quite happy to let you have her, if you will only worship me." The Devil waved his hand. Images of splendid cities and mountains of wealth flashed before them. "All this can be yours, if you will only acknowledge my supremacy. Is it really so hard, to change your allegiance?"

"I've said it before, and I will say it again," said Balian. "I will not sell my soul."

"Amen to that," said Jack stubbornly. The last time he'd done that, he'd had disastrous results. "What use have we for riches any way, eh? We've got enough. We don't need yours."

"Is that right, Captain Sparrow?" said the Devil. "What about immortality? I can give you that too."

Jack hesitated, and then made a face at Satan. "Hah! I can get that meself! Who wants your gifts?"

"Let the lady go," growled Legolas.

"Or else?" said Satan, grabbing Jocelyn by the arm and hoisting her to her feet.

"You'll regret it otherwise, Satan," said Hector calmly.

"You heard him," said Achilles. "Let her go, or we'll make you pay."

"I highly doubt it," hissed the fallen angel. With that, his appearance began to change. He grew in stature even as he lost the dangerous beauty which he had shown them. His flesh moulded itself to show the shape of his bones and his eyes, now piercingly white and glowing, sank deep into his skull. His body appeared to be aflame from within and his teeth became sharp like the fangs of a snake. The Devil walked across the lake of molten rock. It did not burn him.

Balian gripped his sword tightly and fought to control the fear which was rising up inside him. Jocelyn needed him to be strong.

"I ask you one last time," said Satan. "Will you serve me?"

"You said it once to God, _Lucifer_, and I will repeat your words to you now," said Balian through gritted teeth. "I will not serve."

"Then you will beg for death, and I will not grant it."

"No!" screamed Jocelyn from the island. "Balian! Get away from here while you still can! I was selfish to pray that you would come for me! Go on, now!"

"I came of my own volition!" replied her husband. "I will not leave unless it is with you in tow. I have made my decision."

"Love," sneered the Devil. "How...touching." He flicked a finger, and Balian was flung several feet away. The man's body slammed into a rock. He gasped as he heard and felt a crack, and then pain lanced through his chest. He fell to the ground wheezing. Will and Legolas lunged at Satan, only to be stopped by a wave of the fallen angel's hand and sent flying backwards, crashing into everyone else.

"Pathetic," said Satan. "I would've thought that Yahweh would've chosen something stronger to be his warrior." Balian picked himself up and charged, determined to rescue his wife no matter what the cost. His sudden assault caught Satan off guard, but he made little impact on the Prince of Darkness. The Devil caught him by the neck with a burning hand. The man felt his breath being cut off by the powerful grip. Blood roared in his ears. Jocelyn's screams and his friend's shouts were distant. All he could feel was the agony in his neck and chest as the Devil slowly proceeded to crush his airway. Fatuously, he tried to pry away the manacle like talons from his throat. He needed air. In his weakening struggles, his eyes fell on Jocelyn, still on the island.

'I don't regret anything,' he thought, hoping that she would understand that his fate was not her fault.

Will rushed forward, but he halted suddenly in his tracks. Blood stained the front of his shirt. The wound in his chest had been reopened. The pain was excruciating. He fell to his knees. The agony robbed him of his voice. His pupils dilated.

"Will!" cried Bootstrap, rushing forward to take his son into his arms.

"No one hurts the whelp and gets away with it!" said Jack, he ran forward, brandishing both his pistol and his sword. Paris was right behind him. Hector just managed to push them out of the way as Satan threw a fireball at them.

The fallen angel laughed, thinking that his ball of flames would burn Hector, but the older prince dispelled it with a wave of his hand. "They didn't make me a saint for nothing, Lucifer," he said.

"Oh, and what can you do about it?" sneered Satan. He dropped Balian. The man gasped for breath as he sucked air into his deprived lungs. The Devil smiled and then placed his iron shod foot on the man's body and proceeded to crush him. A straining cry escaped his lips. His hands clawed feebly at the ground. "What will you do, _saint_, as I crush this pathetic little pest and grind his bones into the dust."

Jocelyn could only scream as the Lord of Hell tormented her husband. She was surrounded by molten rock. There was no way to get off the island without being burnt. 'Oh damn it all,' she thought. 'He risked a fate worse than death to save me.' With that, she flung herself into the fiery lake and tried to swim to the shore. Hot under-currents dragged her down. She was burning, burning, but she could not die. She was already dead.

Jack was wondering what he why he had volunteered to come. It had been the stupidest decision he had ever made, and that included the time he had decided to share the coordinates of the location of the Aztec gold with Barbossa. The pirate put it down to curiosity. 'Curiosity killed the cat, Jackie,' he told himself 'and it might very well kill the sparrow too.'

Hector did not bother to reply. He lunged at his enemy, sword raised. Satan parried the blow, but he had not expected the force of the righteous fury which powered it. He stumbled, relieving the pressure on Balian's body. Painfully, and mustering the last of his strength, the man scrambled away and picked up his fallen sword from where it lay on the ground. "Go, get her!" shouted Hector.

Balian looked to the island, but his wife was gone. For a moment, he could see delicate flailing hands above the surface of the lake before they were dragged underneath again. The blacksmith did not even think as he readied his muscles to leap into the molten rock, but Legolas stopped him. "You will burn," said the elf. "She must fight this on her own."

Balian swallowed the urge to ignore the elf. He was right. If he leapt into that molten rock, he would die. That would do no good whatsoever. Just as he was about to give up hope, Jocelyn scrambled onto the shore, spluttering. Balian rushed to her and crushed her against him. Tears of relief and joy ran down his face. "Oh, Jocelyn..." he murmured.

"Yeah, yeah, very romantic," said Jack sarcastically. "Can we go now? You can kiss her later. Heck, I'll marry you meself."

"Uh, Jack, they're already married," said Legolas, hauling Balian to his feet. The elf's keen eyes could see a glowing doorway in the distance. With Hector bringing up the rear, the battered group ran through the door. The Lord of Hell made to follow them, but the doorway closed up just before he could step over the threshold.

Balian breathed in the cool clean air untainted by the scent of burning flesh. He had Jocelyn in his arms, and she looked whole again. The ligature marks on her neck were gone.

Bootstrap lowered the wounded Will to the ground. Hector knelt beside him. "How is he?"

"I'm fine," whispered Will, although he looked very pale. Sweat beaded his skin and his breathing was shallow. "Don't you remember? I can't die."

"Don't tell me it doesn't hurt, son," said Bootstrap, cradling the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ as if he was a child.

"Allow me," said Hector, placing his hands over Will's wound. Before their eyes, the ragged edges of the wound joined together, and Will's bleeding stopped. The young pirate's features relaxed as the pain left him.

"That's a miracle," breathed Achilles.

"I'm not surprised," said Jack. "He's _Saint_ Hector."

"Who made him a saint?" asked Balian.

"The archangel Michael hisself, that's who," said Barbossa. He turned to Balian. "Now that you've got yer missus back, where to next?"

Balian looked up from a passionate kiss. "Excuse me?" he said. Obviously he hadn't heard a single thing.

"Our next course of action, Balian," said Legolas, sniggering.

"To Purgatory," said Michael, appearing behind them suddenly. "You have been allowed to rescue your wife from Hell. That doesn't mean she can return to the world of the living. She must go to Purgatory to prepare for her entry into Heaven." He held out a hand to Jocelyn. "I will take her from here, Balian. You must return to the world of the living. You do not belong here. There is still a long road ahead of you."

Jocelyn clung to Balian, unwilling to let him go. She glanced at Michael and then back at her husband. "Go on," said Balian, giving her a gentle push in the angel's direction. "Trust me. Everything will be fine. Nothing will hurt you, I promise."

"Your husband is a man of his word," said Michael, smiling gently to make her less afraid of him.

"How cheesy," muttered Jack, fumbling around for his bottle of rum. He swore quietly as he realized he'd dropped it in Hell. "To think I left that old devil a drink."

Jocelyn reluctantly took Michael's hand. They vanished in a flash of light. Balian stared after them long after they'd disappeared. Hector came up from behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "She's at peace," he said.

"Thank you," said Balian, turning to the older prince of Troy.

"What for?" said Hector with a smile.

"If it hadn't been for you, I would've died."

"I'm just returning the favour. You did your best to save Troy. You even took Odysseus prisoner, and you rescued Paris and Cassandra. You owe me nothing, Balian."

"Come on," said Jack. "Let's get back to the boat, where we can hammocks and, more importantly, _rum_."

* * *

Balian sank onto the deck in exhaustion. Cassandra descended on him, fretting like a mother. "Where does it hurt, Balian?" she asked anxiously. 

"He'll never give you a straight answer, my lady," said Legolas in amusement. "Better to poke him everywhere and see whether he winces or not. It's far more efficient."

Balian glared at his friend. "Fine," he wheezed, as Cassandra followed Legolas' advice "next time you get injured, I'll try that."

"I won't let you near me the next time I'm hurt," said Legolas, grinning. "Your ribs are most definitely bruised, by the way, maybe even cracked."

"He be needing a woman's touch," said a voice which startled all of them. Calypso sat on the rail, looking like a contented cat.

"Calypso," said Will, quickly recovering. "I didn't expect you to be back so soon."

"Apparently not," said the goddess, all the while eyeing Hector. "You will soon be free of this ship, William Turner, but the _Dutchman_ must have a captain."

"And who might this new captain be?" drawled Barbossa.

Calypso looked sulky. "It was my fellow god Hades who made this decision, but it has been decided that the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ will no longer be from the living, but from the dead. To be more exact, the undead."

"The undead?" said Jack. "That's very interesting."

"Who is it?" asked Will, who could hardly contain his delight. He would be able to see Elizabeth again.

"He is on this ship," said Calypso. "Which one of you no longer has a place in the world of the living, hmmm?"

All eyes turned to Hector, whose mouth was open with shock, making him look most unlike any saint which Balian had seen, not that he'd seen a saint who was not a painting or a statue.

"Ten years at sea, and then one day, you may step onto the shore, to be with she who loves you," said Calypso. "Better than, surely, to wander around in the Underworld forever?"

"This has to be one of the better arrangements," Jack whispered to Will.

"Say something, Hector," said Paris.

"I..." began the older prince. "I accept, but I do not know how to sail."

"That's why you have a crew, Captain...what do I call you, sir?" said Bootstrap.

"Assaracus," supplied Will. "Captain Hector Assaracus."

"This is an odd turn of events," said Balian dazedly to no one in particular.

"Most unexpected," agreed Jack in his posh voice. He was looking at Hector with something akin to envy. Only Barbossa seemed unaffected. Legolas recovered quickly, just as Calypso disappeared in a mist of sea spray.

"Right, Master Balian, you are going to have your hurts tended to," he said.

"Are you threatening him, Nurse Legolas?" asked Will.

"And you'd better stop calling me that, or I'm going to make sure you stay silent," growled the elf although his mouth twitched as he fought the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.

"You sound like my mother, Legolas," Balian complained, but he allowed the elf to lead him below deck.

"But I think he'd be prettier than your mother," called Jack. Legolas stopped.

"That's it," he said, forgetting about Balian and going back to deal with a pirate who did not know when to keep his mouth shut. The blacksmith decided that his injuries could wait. He was not about to miss the unfolding spectacle. Chaos reigned on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_. Legolas was chasing Jack, while Paris was cheering and Achilles looked dumbfounded. Barbossa decided to interfere and he stuck his foot out, causing Jack to stumble and fall flat on his face. Legolas pounced on the pirate and the two of them wrestled on the wooden boards of the deck.

"Wait, wait," said Jack. "I yield!"

"Call me 'my lord' and I might consider sparing you, Jack Sparrow," said Legolas.

"It's _Captain_ Jack Sparrow...milord."

Legolas seemed uncertain as to whether he should let Jack go or not. That was all the time that Jack needed to push him off and make a dash for the rigging. He scrambled up to the crow's nest. "Hah!" he shouted down. "Can't catch me now!"

"Really?" said Legolas, eyeing the crow's nest.

"Is it always like this?" Achilles asked Will.

"Pretty much, "replied Will dryly.

"Forgive me for being a spoilsport," drawled Barbossa "but I be thinkin' that we'd best get back to the world of the livin', seein, as I left me ship there. You don't want to wander these unnatural seas forever."

"He's got a very good point," said Legolas, abandoning the pursuit.

"The ship is yours, Captain Assaracus, to do with what you will," said Will.

"So what do I do?" asked Hector.

"Command it to go back to the world of the livin', you dolt," called Jack.

"If I were you, Jack, I'd get out of the crow's nest," said Will. Jack seemed to think for a while before raising his eyebrows and grinning.

"Good point," he said, climbing out.

Hector held Andromache and Astyanax close to him, aware that this would be one of the last times he would ever see his son as an infant. He closed his eyes, letting the sound of the waves lapping against the sides of the ship fill him. He was one with the sea. Concentrating his mind, he willed the ship to take them back to the world of the living. She was alive, responding to him like a horse to its master. Hector, tamer of horses.

Hector, tamer of ships.

They were plunged beneath the waves. The new captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ heard the song of every sailor and was in his mind the glory of every vessel which sailed the seas. He saw once more, the shores of Troy and then Aeneas, setting forth from Sicily to the land of Latium. The ship emerged into air again. The captain opened his eyes.

The _Pearl_ floated serenely beside them. Bottles of rum littered the deck. Empty bottles. Ragetti and Pintel were sprawled out and snoring. Will's crewman, who had been in charge, was nowhere to be seen. Barbossa rolled his eyes. He was not impressed.

Boats were lowered and everyone, with the exception of Hector and the _Dutchman_'s crew, was transported onto the _Pearl_. Andromache was the last to go. Hector smiled and kissed her. "Do not weep, Andromache," he said. "I have been given a chance which no other man, save for Will, has had. We will see each other again."

"Ten years is a long time," said Andromache, giving him a watery smile.

"But eternity is longer still," said Hector reasonably. "I am leaving you and Astyanax in capable hands."

"Balian's hands are not your hands, my love."

"Nevertheless, he will take good care of you." The new captain pulled his wife into a passionate goodbye kiss. On the _Pearl_, Jack was about to wolf-whistle but he stopped himself when Will gave him a piercing glare.

The _Dutchman _sank beneath the waves again with a green flash. It would not emerge for another ten years, unless something entirely out of the ordinary happened. Jack and Barbossa were at the helm, once again wrestling for the steering wheel. "Where to now?" shouted Barbossa.

"Tortuga!" shouted Jack.

"Actually, I would like to go to New England," said Will.

"Aye! Mrs. Turner will be wantin' to see ye," said Barbossa. "To New Englan' it is then!"

"New England?" said Balian. "Is there a new England and an old England?"

"You'll see," said Will. He was not in the mood to explain the discoveries of Christopher Columbus to a twelfth century crusader knight. The prospect of seeing Elizabeth made him restless. The skies were darkening. It looked like there was going to be one of the Caribbean's legendary storms. A huge wave assailed the ship. Andromache, who had been standing by the rail, was knocked overboard, with Astyanax in her arms.

"Andromache!" shouted Balian. Hector had entrusted his family to him. He would not fail the prince of Troy again. With no thought for his own safety, he leapt into the swirling water. The waves closed over his head. He fought to stay afloat and at the same time, tried to locate Andromache and Astyanax. His lungs were burning with the need for air, and the edges of his vision were beginning to darken, and he was becoming light-headed.

Legolas saw his friend leaping into the water, and he quickly followed, despite his opinion that Balian was mad to risk swimming in a storm. The undercurrents pulled him down, no matter how hard he tried to keep his head above water. The last thing he remembered was the flash of lightning before he lost consciousness.

_**Fin**_

_**Stay tuned...**_

THREE DIFFERENT WORLDS...

_Minas Tirith is under siege._

_A ship flies the colours of the East India Trading Company. It lowers its anchor close to a beach with palm trees._

_A red standard with a golden lion flies on the battlements of a fortress, next to the Templar cross. _

THE PAST CATCHES UP...

_**Imad: **__(to Balian)_ Sibylla gave birth to a son almost two years ago. She claims he is yours.

_**Aragorn: **_A new devilry is rising in the East.

_Jack stares at something, looking shocked._

_Elizabeth holds the Dead Man's Chest. _

NEW TROUBLES ARISE...

_Balian, with a child perched on his hip, and Imad, are surrounded by Crusaders. _

_Andromache hefts a sword with a ruby in the hilt. _

_Ragetti looks sheepish while wearing Aragorn's crown. _

_Pippin peers down the barrel of a pistol. _

AN UNKNOWN THREAT IS UNLEASHED...

_Balian points a sword at Legolas. He is wearing an alien malicious expression on his face. Behind him is a dark cloaked figure. Legolas looks anguished._

_Guy bows to Dark Balian, glancing up in fear and loathing. _

_Imad stares at his blood-covered hands with an expression of shock. _

_Andromache comforts a dark haired toddler. _

_Cassandra __stares__into__ a palantir. _

_Legolas and Imad __fight__Dark__ Balian. _

OLD DEBTS WILL BE REPAID…

_Aragorn faces a dark figure. _

_Guy prostrates himself before someone. _

_Jack looks grim._

_Elizabeth presses her lips together and glares while pointing a pistol at someone. _

FROM THE AUTHOR OF THE CHANCE ENCOUNTER SERIES AND PRELUDE TO HEAVEN

COMES

**CHANCE ENCOUNTER : RETURN TO MIDDLE EARTH**

**4 JANUARY 2008 A.D.**

**ON FF-NET**

(_Lord of the Rings_ section)

* * *

**A/N:** And so ends the madness of the second instalment. Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I hope you all enjoyed this second misadventure. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Hope to see you guys at the next misadventure!


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